


Western Concubine

by DaughterOfTheRevolution



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 19th Century, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, Edo Period, Forbidden Love, Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:04:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterOfTheRevolution/pseuds/DaughterOfTheRevolution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kiku Honda, a loyal Samurai warrior, thought his life was over when his wife and child died. But the winds of change strew up a storm that brought in an American whaling ship to the shores of Japan. The sole survivor, a sixteen-year-old named Alfred F. Jones has resurrected the old soldier’s spirit. Aroused the life in Kiku’s broken heart he did, but also a desire in the Shogun who takes the young exotic boy to live with him in his home, and . . . to be his concubine. Kiku/Alfred. AmeriPan. Historical Fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fate Has Decided

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, DaughterOfTheRevolution here! Thought I'd try out Ao3 after some suggestions I do. Was going to try to post the rest of my work on here from FanFiction but decided to tinker around a bit with a brand-new story. Hope all goes well and this story is well received. I've been thinking about this oneshot for a while. Of course it turned out longer than expected, but it shouldn't be too long. Originally it was just supposed to be porn with a little bit of plot and then this comes about. Oh well. Enjoy anyway!

Japan 1843

The storm tossed waves onto coastal villages in ravaging anger so it was no surprise that the reports of a foreign ship thrashed about the rocks of their island. But Kiku Honda was a soldier of the Shogun and, rain or shine, would investigate this appearance earnestly.

He took a squadron of warriors and equipped them with weapons before heading out into the black storm. The sun would have been risen high by this time of day but the howling winds pressed the clouds to blanket the sky, cascading everything into a dark mist. Hardly anything was visible and keeping one’s eyes open to view anything was a challenge.

Kiku struggled with his men for any sign of the sighted ship. He could see nothing.

“There!” one of his men pointed out.

Sure enough it was a ship. A Western ship. Kiku frowned at the sight of it. No matter how many times their country denied relations between the Westerners they still came, with their warships and whaling ships. This one was a whaling ship.

“What should we do?”

Kiku remained quiet, contemplating. His gaze watched the scene unfold before him intensely.

“We will wait,” Kiku informed, staying his men from any action. “The sea will decide their fate.”

Despite the horrid winds around and the chilling rain soaking them Kiku stayed himself and his men to watch and wait for the outcome of the ship. In this time he took note to watch the men onboard struggling to handle their sails. They were running around like mad, some even falling overboard.

Kiku straightened himself. So was the fate of those ignoring warnings.

When his sight caught the image of the ship’s main flag ripping away in the wind he took in the stars and the red and white stripes. He knew flags, this was a vessel of the United States of America. The thought of said country reminded Kiku of six years previous when the same nation tried to land a ship in their harbor and send out delegates of their God. They were chased away, and so would this vessel—unless the sea claimed it first.

Suddenly, Kiku beheld a larger wave slam itself against the ship’s left side of the hull. The boat tossed and would have balanced itself had not another wave hit it again in the same position. The ship collapsed and Kiku distinctively swore he could hear the men’s cries—perhaps that was just the howling wind around.

Well, now he could certainly see their distress as the ship spewed out the sailors to rest their own fates in the blue waters. The waves came and buried them in their graves. There would be no survivors.

“They are gone,” his men praised with laughter. “Let’s return inside.” All wanted shelter from the storm.

“Matte,” Kiku ordered, holding his hand up to stay his men’s departure. They looked at him curiously but when their gaze followed his own they too noticed the guided wreckage of the ship. There were two, two Westerners still in the battle for their lives.

“Masaka!” came the gasps from the rest of the men, but Kiku remained quiet and watching.

 _Go down_ , Kiku mentally demanded. _Be with the rest of your men._ _Stay away from this land._

“They seem to be struggling to come this way,” one soldier noted.

“They will drown too if the sea should see it,” another spoke up.

But, suddenly, the rains stopped. Kiku looked up. The black clouds thinned, and grayed. The winds were easing as well. The storm was near ceased.

 _No_ , Kiku’s frown deepened. _Let the sea finish them off!_ But the sea did not and calmed just as it looked like the two went under. They clung to a broken piece of the ship and one of them, a larger man, was pedaling his way closer toward shore.

“A shame,” the men behind Kiku sighed exasperatingly. “The sea’s left us the remaining duty to be rid of them.”

The penalty for coming to Japan was death. So be it.

Kiku and his men held onto their swords while making their way down to the coast. In their plight the skies cleared. The sun was brighter than expected and every dripping plain seemed to sparkle, especially the rocks of the coastal line now surrounded by wreckage of the lost vessel.

They made it to shore. Two Westerners. Kiku could see the larger one, a white-haired man, drag the smaller onto the shallow beach and press up against the large rocks near.

He looked worn, wounded, but he clung to the smaller and shivered from the chill in the air.

Kiku looked at his men and told them to follow him paces behind. He approached them first. He knew multiple languages, Dutch, Portuguese, Russian, French, and English. If he remembered correctly, the people from the United States of America spoke English.

“You should not have come here.” Kiku didn’t care if he was heavily accented. As long as the other understood. He was no man to do away with the innocent.

Now that he was closer he could get a better look at the man. He was dressed in dark blue, perhaps he had been the captain of the ship lost to the ocean, his hair was pure white, his skin wrinkled. He was an old man, surprising Kiku of his journey on the ship.

He had his head leant back against the rock, taking in deep breaths, almost to calm himself. In his arms, Kiku could finally see was a boy. His hair sparkled bright gold in the sunlight layered with water droplets, his skin quite tan, much more than the older man’s. He was not moving and the color of red on the side of the boy’s head proved to Kiku that he had been hurt in the sinking and was unconscious.

“Can you understand me?” Kiku narrowed his eyes at the unresponsive man. Perhaps he had mistaken the flag now clung tight into the old man’s grasp along with the boy. Perhaps it was a Russian flag instead. So, Kiku opened his mouth and made to speak in said language when the man opened his eyes.

Bright blue. The eyes did not fit his age. They were full of youth and spirit that surely they were the eyes of a younger more capable youth. It surprised Kiku and he even leant back a little in awe.

Then there was a smile on those cracked and weathered lips. He shifted, sitting up more and holding onto the boy tighter. “That I can,” he replied softly, choking on the saltwater embedded into his lungs.

“You are an American?” Kiku once again looked at the striped flag. He was certain that was the flag of said country.

“Aye,” the man nodded. He then smiled. Kiku leant back again. “The name’s Captain Samuel Jones. A pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Kiku frowned. There was no need for this man to be polite nor happy. He knew better. He knew it.

“We are sakoku,” Kiku informed. “We have warned against trespassers. You have broken our law.”

The Westerner, Samuel, looked up at the clear blue sky, its reflection in his gaze. He looked—sad. “Aye, looks like I have. I’m sorry.”

Before, Kiku was glad to grab hold of these trespassers and bring them to justice, run his blade through their necks, so then why was he so patient with this one? Death was already at his door, and with no transportation to return to the country of his birth his fate is sealed.

“You are aware of what is so ordered of those who break our law?” Kiku pressed.

“Aye,” the man nodded.

Kiku turned to his men. One look was all it took. They approached the man. Almost immediately he backed up, holding onto the unconscious boy in his arms.

“Please.” Kiku understood the word, but didn’t understand why he was saying it when he understood completely of what was to become of him. He eyed him intently. He watched the old man look at the warriors surrounding him and then he turned toward Kiku who oversaw it all some paces away. “I understand and comply with every crime you have stated, but do not kill my son.”

Son? Kiku looked at the boy. He looked so young, and the man so old.

“His name’s Alfred, Alfred F. Jones,” Samuel stated as if giving a name to the child would evoke some sort of sympathy to the Japanese men—so to make them look at him like a human being. “He’s the only child in my old age. My wife, she passed bearing him into this world. He’s all I have.”

Japan shouldn’t have felt it, but he did. There was a sharp stab to his heart. He visibly winced at it.

 _So, Kami would grant this Westerner his one and only child while the mother sacrifices herself for his existence, and yet He would take away both my wife and child in the same evening? What a cruel god you are._ Kiku shouldn’t have felt so conflicted. This was his duty and fate was never kind to anyone. Some children were born to die early and the mothers surrendering their souls for their first breath in the world were often given in vain.

“Separate the two,” Kiku ordered to his men. They nodded and proceeded in doing so. But the Western Captain fought, he fought to keep hold of his child.

Kiku remained quiet and kept. He watched his men finally whisk the boy out of his father’s embrace. Samuel’s cries for the boy weren’t well understood but they did not sit well with Kiku’s heart. He inwardly sighed. He should have listened to his Shogun and taken a leave of absence to give himself time to grieve for the death of his wife and child, after all, it was not proper he be going about his duties with such a heavy heart only after their passing a mere month later.

When Samuel suddenly pulled himself from the soldiers’ grasp with a strength they hadn’t expected and lunged forward to the men dragging the teen away Kiku slapped his hand against his weapon, ready to intercede. But he was stayed when his men chased after him, grabbing him by his slim waist and pulling him away. Kiku watched the Captain wrap that tattered flag of his around his son’s arm before being ripped from him, after which he was more compliable.

Kiku would usually follow the older of the Westerners as he was brought before the Shogun, but instead he found himself sticking closer to his men dragging the unconscious teen, he was a lengthy lad, Kiku mused he couldn’t be older than fifteen, but still, he had inherited his father’s height, quite tall for one so young.

Kiku oversaw which cell they put the unconscious boy in and left him in that state. There was no medical care given. The only sign he was still alive was the rise and fall of his chest.

Kiku frowned. The caked blood on the side of his face was quite unattractive and begged for assistance. Kiku was on the verge with debating on whether to fetch a doctor or not when a messenger came to him and informed him that the Shogun wished him to carry out Samuel’s execution.

Kiku spared one last glance at the young Westerner and then eyed the guards to the prison. He knew these men for a long time, as of why right then and there that he didn’t trust them with the boy’s well-being was beyond him. He didn’t like how this turn of events changed him internally and hoped to be rid of the uneasy feeling by seeing to Samuel’s expected end.

He’d never seen a foreigner so still, so waiting. He sat there knelt on the ground, the Shogun watching with his entourage. Kiku bowed before his Shogun and then drew his katana. He lowered the blade on the old man’s neck, letting him feel the press of the steel for a moment.

The captain then laughed. Kiku blinked in surprise. “I’ve fought in 1812 and sailed for many years after . . . looks like my luck’s run out.” He turned his head. Kiku frowned at the action and would have told him to face back to the ground sooner hadn’t Samuel held his gaze. Those blue eyes of his were still very full of life—usually many were so hallow at this point, given up, ready to embrace death’s cold touch. But not Samuel Jones. “At least you’ll take care of my boy.”

Kiku had never so promised this. Yet, internally, just as he clenched the hilt of his sword tighter and raised it high he heard himself mentally say, _Hai_.

With that he swung his sword down. Samuel paid for his failure to uphold Japan’s seclusion. He knew better.

It still unsettled Kiku though and as night drifted over the land he found himself seated in front of the cellar that the captain’s son had been placed in. He was still unconscious, but recent moans and groans alerted Kiku that he was ready to awaken soon.

 _At least he is survived by his son_ , Kiku found himself thinking. He smiled bitterly. When he would pass away there was nothing left of him. He was growing old in years and the wife of his youth had been spirited away into the afterlife with their only birthed child. How he envied Captain Samuel Jones.

Perhaps that was why he felt inclined to help his young son, Alfred F. Jones, survive.

“Mmm.” Kiku perked. He kept a steady gaze on the boy and noticed more movement. “Mmm, ugh.” Then, Kiku watched as his eyes fluttered open. His breath caught in his throat. He thought he’d never see them again—those blue, blue eyes so full of life and spirit. Why, the boy had inherited more than just stature from his late father.

Beautiful, they truly were. Kiku knew many a person who trembled at the sight of demonic “blue eyes” but Kiku found them fascinating, belonging to creatures simply not of this world. He’s never seen such lovely blue eyes before. Truly Samuel-san and his son possessed the most beautiful.

Kiku found himself smiling slightly again, almost endearingly as he watched Alfred move himself to sit up against the wall to his back. When he began looking around Kiku’s smile faded. The spirit in his gaze shifted into panic and fright.

“Father?” Alfred sounded so young, Kiku knew he to be right about his assumed age. “Father?!”

Kiku nearly jumped to his feet as he watched the boy jump to his own and immediately fall against the bars around him. He was dazed, struck on the head and off balance. But that did not deter the boy from searching the cells next to him for his parent.

“Father?” Kiku then watched his bottom lip quiver and his eyes water. They seemed to shine even more with the moisture sheening them. Then, their gazes met. Kiku was in fact the only soldier there not turned from the American boy. “Where’s my father?” The boy had no ability to comprehend he was speaking to someone not of his race and possibly did not understand him. “Hey! My father? He’s tall, has white hair, a goatee.” Alfred pulled at his chin, his voice cracking. “Have you see him? Please tell me, please!”

Kiku sighed and sat himself back down on the stool, folding his arms in his sleeves. “Do you know where you are?”

Alfred’s eyes widened. “You speak my language? Good, have you seen my father? His name’s Samuel, Samuel Jones. I’m Alfred, his son. Please, tell me he’s alright!”

“Do you know where you are?” Kiku once more inquired in calm.

Alfred trembled, utterly amazing Kiku at the sound of the bars shaking against his grasp. The boy had a strength to him.

“No,” he answered. The tears were falling now. “I think, but, I’m not sure . . . my father—”

“Paid the price for not submitting to this country’s isolation,” Kiku informed.

Alfred stilled himself. His eyes wide and mouth gapping. His eyes fluttered in the sting of his tears falling out fresh. “Then—Then he’s . . .”

Kiku did not need to say anymore. He knew the boy understood. They were whaling near their borders and no doubt the boy’s father had informed him on which land to steer clear from. A shame the storm brought them too close to the shore, but that was fate—always so cruel.

Alfred bowed his head and cried. He slid down, hitting his knees and moaning out in agony. Kiku sat and listened. He could have left, but felt the boy needed a presence looking at him, so he stayed.

“Why?” Alfred asked, inhaling a shaking breath. His eyes met Kiku’s again. He could see he was angry but the sadness overwhelmed those irises. “We did nothing to you. It was all an acci—an accident. How can you judge us so harshly?!” Alfred choked out another sob. “Why not me? Why didn’t you kill me too?”

Kiku inwardly chuckled. He’s been asking himself the same question the entire day. By all rights he should have and yet the sun has gone down on the day, a new day will arrive soon, and Alfred will live.

“Your father,” Kiku replied. “That is why.”

Alfred looked at him with shocked eyes. He blinked before closing his eyes, his brows crashing together. He was the epitome of heartbroken. Around this time Kiku would inform the prisoner that this was their fault and they knew better, but looking at Alfred like that, he just didn’t have the heart to say such things.

Perhaps the Shogun was right. He should have taken time to mourn for his loss. His heart was still too tender. He too weak.

“Honda, why didn’t you tell me there was another?”

Kiku straightened and stood swiftly to his feet at the sound of his Shogun’s voice. He turned and bowed to him. Surely he had thought he’d be in bed by now.

“Forgive me, Shogun-dono,” Kiku apologized. Come to think of it, he hadn’t told the Shogun about the second survivor. “I thought that one of my men would have informed you.”

“They did, but in the late of the hour,” the Shogun, Tokugawa Ieyoshi, said. He was very interested in this Westerner, Kiku could tell by the way he was trying to peak around him to look at Alfred. It was expected, after all, he didn’t see much of the Westerners, Americans especially.

Reaching out the Shogun patted Kiku’s arm with his fan to signal him to step aside. With head kept bowed Kiku did so and the Shogun stepped closer to the cell with his own guards at his side.

A worry arose in Kiku’s heart. He knew it was misplaced for a foreigner he had just met, but it urged him to speak, saying, “I beg of you not to harm him.”

“Hm, why is that, Honda?” the Shogun spared one glance toward him but remained fixated on the crying teen slumped to the floor of the cell.

“I had promised his father to protect him,” Kiku admitted. He should have felt ashamed for swearing such a thing to a foreigner, but curiously, he didn’t.

“You have become strange after the passing of your wife and child, Honda,” the Tokugawa noted. But even so, Kiku was one of his most faithful soldiers and he honored his bushido lifestyle. He said nothing more. His gaze now transfixed on the boy in the cage.

The Shogun hadn’t seen as many foreigners as his father. Seeing the Captain earlier that day was among the first in a long while. This boy, he was the man’s son? He tilted his head. He supposed he could see the resemblance.

With a sigh the Shogun motioned to one of the prison guards to open the cage and show off the boy better. The guard did so, unlocking the gate and entering. Alfred immediately backed away from the man but when another guard entered he was forced closer to the Shogun. The guards even went as far as splashing water in his face. It cleared up the blood and dirt caked on his skin, but it also arose a desire.

The boy was beautiful. Tan skin was an ugly trait in their country, but the way it was worn on him was godly. His hair sparkled gold, even in the dimness of the torchlight. And his eyes, as the guards forced his chin up to look at the Shogun, his eyes met his. They were glowing, full of a spirit unseen by any present in that prison cellar.

The Shogun reached out and tapped the tip of his sealed fan against the boy’s high cheek bone. This was it, Kiku knew that his master was inspecting Alfred, deciding on whether or not to let him live. This Shogun was not his father and Kiku believed likely more passive, but he was still cautious, for once in his life doubting his sworn master’s intentions.

What would Kiku do should the Shogun decide to execute Alfred? Kiku had sworn his spirit that the boy would live. What would he do?

The conflict inside him almost turned him violent. Even the other guards noticed his hand resting on his sword.

“Do not worry, Honda,” Tokugawa spoke up, pulling the fan away from Alfred and smiled down at the Western boy. “This Westerner will live. I will make sure you keep your promise to his father.” He then turned and motioned for the prison guards to obey. “Release him. He will live with me.”

Kiku’s heart dropped. Why? He should have been gracious that his master decided to lift the sentence of death from the boy’s head. But he wasn’t, because he understood his Shogun’s intentions.

Alfred was to become Shogun Tokugawa Ieyoshi’s concubine.


	2. Training

Samuel Jones would not have wanted this. Kiku had only known him for less than a day, but he felt he knew. He couldn’t explain it, yet he felt the unease of the man’s concerned heart in his own as he followed his Shogun on his way back to his home where Alfred was dragged along, crying to be let go and struggling so much he had to be bound.

“Is that such a wise thing, Shogun-dono?” Kiku questioned, walking closer to the man. He pointed back at Alfred who was close to having the soldiers take out their weapons and gut him for his rowdiness. “He is a wild animal. Should harm come to you—” _Should harm come to Alfred—_

The Shogun turned his head. He was stricken with the boy’s beauty. Kiku could see that much.

“He will be tamed,” Tokugawa informed, tapping his fan against his lips to hide his eager smile. He then looked at Kiku and nodded in encouragement. “Even wild stallions are broken in eventually. He will learn his place. He will learn our language, our culture. He will become one of us.”

Kiku felt distressed. He stopped in his steps. He didn’t know what to do. His mind was racing to multiple outcomes of something like this, but he was just a simple soldier in line of favor with the Shogun for his loyalty. He had sworn to die for the Shogun if necessary, yet now . . .

Kiku watched the guards walk past him, the three holding and pulling Alfred along. The boy turned his head, he looked at him. His eyes were wide and pleading and yet Kiku remained there, staring.

Kiku could not change Alfred’s fate.

At least he would live.

_Ease your spirit, Samuel, your son will live_ , Kiku mentally begged. He could feel the man’s spirit press against his own and he was tormented.

So he turned, looked away and turned from the scene. But he could still hear Alfred, he could hear and understand him. He was crying, confused, and begging to know what they were doing to him and where they were taking him. He’d nearly died of fright in believing he was to be executed. Instead he was taken to the concubines’ chambers, settled with guards as the women took him, stripped him of his clothing and burnt the Western attire. He struggled even for the women to give him proper bathing so the guards often had to hold him down while they cleansed him.

Kiku did not come to the Shogunate home until the next day. He had not slept the remainder of the night, the worry in Samuel’s soul seeped into his own and he stayed awake counting stars. His home was empty, already full of so many ghosts, so what was one more?

When the Shogun called for him upon the morning he was surprised to understand why.

“I want you to guard him,” Tokugawa informed while he sat and played Go with an older friend of his.

Kiku was mainly in charge of the coastal guard. Why the sudden change to personal guard?

“Could I obtain the reason for your decision?” Kiku asked.

“You have no one but yourself to blame,” the Shogun said with a chuckle after finally beating his rival player. He then turned to the seated Kiku and waved his fan. “It is you who promised his father with his safety. He has been more than troublesome since coming here. I have heard from my head concubine that he had to have two guards hold him down in bathing and four in dressing. He’s fought himself to sleep. I should think when he wakes he’ll refuse to eat, but you speak his language and are an admirable warrior, stronger than many of my men. I ask this only of you. What say you?”

“Hai, I obey my Shogun,” Kiku said, lowering himself prostrate on the floor before his master.

“Do not worry about your post, if trouble arises you will be called upon,” Tokugawa said.

But the coast was quiet and so Kiku was brought to the room where Alfred was kept. He was given an entire room to himself, one further away from the other mistresses of the Shogun. It was understandable because he no doubt frightened the women.

There the boy was, sprawled out on the floor sleeping on the futon given to him. He wasn’t underneath its warm blankets though, giving Kiku the idea that he had just simply fallen over from exhaustion and none of the other concubines saw it fit to cover him.

Kiku approached him and pulled the covers out and over him. The nagajuban he was wearing was that of a light blue, it looked good on him, but even that seemed tussled. One part slipping off his shoulder. Kiku pulled on the sleeve and settled it evenly against his neck.

He sat and waited. Sat and watched.

“Still asleep, is he?”

Kiku turned to see his Shogun enter the room. It was strange. He usually would never enter this wing. Only concubines were called to the Shogun, the Shogun never went to them.

“Shogun-dono,” Kiku made to stand to inform him of this dishonor, but the man patted him to stay seated. It was late at night now and the only light inside the room was from the window letting in the moon’s rays.

“I just wanted to see him,” Tokugawa informed. His eyes looked softly at Alfred and when he leaned down he sat near him. Reaching out he placed his hand on his head, his fingers laced in his locks. “Feels like silk, Honda. He’s so beautiful. I would have never thought that a Westerner could be so . . . alluring.”

Kiku felt uneasy seeing his Shogun caress Alfred like that. He personally blamed the presence of the boy’s father torturing his own soul for its eternal promise. He knew it was wrong to find or think any disapproval of his Shogun, of his master, yet the feeling was strong in his presence—especially when he touched Alfred.

“What do you think of him, Honda?” Tokugawa was now looking at him, his eyes ablaze with want.

“He is interesting, as was his father,” Kiku said. It was a formal reply. _He’s the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen. Even more so than . . . forgive me, Sakura._

“Hai,” the Shogun agreed with a nod. “I cannot wait to see him trained. Make sure to assist the head mistress in her tutoring if she so needs it.”

Kiku chuckled. “She never asks help from anyone,” he informed. After all, that old woman was a previous concubine from the Shogun’s father’s time.

Tokugawa nodded. “That she doesn’t,” he agreed after bringing about childhood memories of the woman. “But . . . he is a male. I do not want him hurting the others.”

Kiku eyed his Shogun suspiciously, waiting for a response to what he said next, “If my Shogun needs me then I will punish him.”

He nodded. “Do it gently. I do not want any blemish on his skin. Leave no marks if you feel the need to reprimand.”

Kiku eased his spirit. The Shogun did not want Alfred harmed. A punishment that would leave no marks was a light sentence. He was glad.

“He will be a wonder in my court,” Tokugawa said, his hand now coming out of the boy’s golden hair to run his fingers across his skin. “What do you think the Chinese would say if they should see him?”

Kiku frowned. “I wouldn’t want to show them anything endearing to you. They would too easily try to steal your treasure.” He was trying to get his master to keep Alfred hidden, away from hungry eyes. He knew that whoever looked upon him would fall under a spell. The Shogun was currently under it, and Kiku . . .

Tokugawa nodded. “You are right, Honda. Always the wise one out of the others.”

Kiku sighed. He still couldn’t stand seeing how his Shogun caressed Alfred’s slumbering face though. He was all too happy to have him leave and it hurt knowing that inside when he had always been a good friend of the Tokugawa’s. What was Kiku becoming?

He had been entrenched in thought that he hadn’t noticed morning slip upon him. The room was filled with sunlight and the stirring of the Westerner started him. Yet another day gone without sleep.

Alfred awoke and looked around. When he finally turned his eyes to him he stilled. Slowly his gaze fell and visible sadness washed over him.

He sat up, rubbing his arms and playing with the nagajuban he had been dressed in. He looked uncomfortable and every now and then Kiku caught sight of him looking up at him.

“This is your new home now,” Kiku informed. Might as well just say it.

His heart lowered at the sight of the younger dropping his shoulders. He closed his eyes and remained still. Such sadness seemed out of place for the bright child. Kiku longed to see him radiant and happy. This was his country and Kiku was quite happy in it himself, so Alfred should be as well.

“Are you hungry?” Kiku asked.

Alfred said nothing.

“If there is anything you want . . .” Kiku was certain the boy’s found favor in the Shogun and that the man would give him anything to his heart’s desire.

“I want my father,” Alfred finally said. He did not look at Kiku, simply remained still, even somewhat curling in on himself, pulling his knees close to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs.

Kiku sighed. “He has died so that you may live. Do not make his sacrifice a meaningless one. Rise and eat. Live.”

Finally, Alfred looked at him. He looked frightened. Kiku even caught slight trembles. “How?” he asked. Those blue eyes were glistening with moisture and Kiku’s breath caught in his throat. Did the boy even realize just how beautiful he was? Simply breathtaking.

The sudden raise of a voice shook the both of them. When the door to Alfred’s room slid open and snapped loudly they turned and in walked an elderly lady. There were other women behind her, but they remained out of the room, peeking in curiously.

“Has he awoken yet?” Kiku swallowed hard. The old woman’s eyes glanced toward him then turned toward Alfred who sat in his futon simply gawking at her. “Ah! Finally.” Before anything else she simply reached down, grabbed a hold of Alfred’s arm and drug him to his feet, successfully pulling him out of the room.

They quickly passed by the gathered women who giggled and chuckled at Alfred’s cute flush in his struggle to conceal himself better with the nagajuban given to him that just seemed to continue slipping open at the torso. Kiku remained only a little while in the room before remembering his duty as overseer and following. He stayed his distance despite his eternal need to be close to Alfred.

He’s heard stories of this infamous head concubine of the 11th Shogun since he was a young child. He’s even had the misfortune of interacting with her a few times many years ago. Now he had the opportunity to be around her _more_ —the woman who is like another mother to the current Shogun and can more than likely press her influence even on him.

But, for the sake of Alfred, he would stay and endure with him.

He watched her bring him to the dining room. It had already been prepared and many of the concubines sat at it, ready to eat. When she burst into the room dragging the foreigner many of the women scooted away and watched from corners of the room while she forced him to sit on his knees, of course he wasn’t perfect.

“Sit better,” she demanded, bending down and patting his thighs, trying to tuck them in, but Alfred simply darted back, trying to make distance of the elderly woman. “You stay!” She grabbed a hold of Alfred’s robe and tugged. Again, the clothing slipped down his torso and revealed his chest. The women giggled and began speaking amongst themselves on their rating of the boy’s physique.

Kiku flushed at their comments, but his blush was nowhere near as bad as Alfred’s who was bright red, covering his chest and trying to pull his covering out of the elderly woman’s hands. She did not seem to care that he was a foreigner or a male for that matter. She simply saw him as another concubine to train and she’d likely die trying if she had anything to say about it.

Kiku struggled to speak up. The elderly mistress continued to scold Alfred in their language and the boy only gapped at her words.

“N . . . Nana-sama, he does not understand.” When she turned to Kiku he quickly averted gazes. Eighty plus years and frail like a skinny branch and still Kiku and _many_ others were afraid of this woman’s wrath.

She scoffed and pressed her hand down on Alfred’s head to keep him seated. She then pointed to Kiku. “Do you understand his language?”

Kiku nodded. “Hai.”

“Then get over here and translate!” Nana demanded.

Kiku nodded quickly and did as told. He came over to Alfred’s other side, the boy looked up at him in confusion before Nana slapped the table.

“He needs to eat,” she said. “Tell him to.”

Kiku looked down at Alfred and motioned to the food. “It’s time to eat,” he informed. “Please, help yourself.”

Alfred looked down at the food and frowned. “No,” he said.

Kiku watched Nana look at him expectantly. “What did he say?”

He swallowed again. “He said ‘no’,” Kiku informed.

Nana looked furious. Furious. “Well, the Shogun will not wait an eternity for him and neither will I!”

Once again she pushed against Alfred’s head. He groaned and then shot her a mean glare. Vicious head mistress or not, Kiku would not let Alfred try to harm her if he so much tried to. But then again, Nana could take care of herself.

Without fear she leaned down and smacked America against the back of his neck with her fan. He hissed and tried to shield himself the best he could if her fan should fall upon him again.

“I would suggest you listen to her, Alfred-san,” Kiku informed.

Alfred glared again and looked down at the food. Nothing he was used to for breakfast. “How am I supposed to eat?” he questioned and then cautiously picked up a bowl of rice, digging his fingers in. Once again he was smacked by Nana’s fan and he hissed. “What? What?” He turned and glared up at the old woman—not many did and lived to tell the tale.

Finally Nana called for the rest of the women to join them at the table. They did so. Politely sitting down, picking up their chopsticks, and eating. The American groaned.

“I can’t eat like that,” he whined.

“You must learn,” Kiku insisted.

“Why?” Alfred asked. Kiku could see he looked ready to cry again.

“Because this is your home now and you need to adjust,” Kiku informed.

Once again Kiku watched his shoulders slump and his head bow. Much too sad for one so young. It would be a long road for the new foreigner.

Nana came forward again. She stood next to Alfred and tapped his shoulder in signal that he continue. Alfred tried, he honestly did. Kiku watched him struggle multiple times with the chopsticks before he tossed them down, but that wasn’t the end of his upset. Just as soon as the dining ware cluttered across the table Alfred as well shoved the bowls and dishes away all the way across the table, leaving the porcelain to shatter and scatter into pieces on the wooden floor.

Nana was not impressed. Kiku feared she would scold the boy, but oddly enough she remained still. Kiku had been so focused on the elderly woman and mentally betting on her predicted moves to Alfred’s tantrum that he hadn’t understood why she stilled herself and refused to act accordingly.

There was Alfred, his hands over his face, his shoulders shaking, and the faint sound of moaning sobs echoing across the suddenly quiet dining room.

Kiku’s heart clenched at the sight and sound. Internally he blamed the oppression of Samuel’s spirit that he swore attached itself to him, because he would not feel anything in kind to this western foreigner.

When Alfred hunched over and leaned against the table his distressed red face shown. With his eyes closed the lids did not stop the massive amount of tears leaking down his face. He rubbed his nose against his sleeve and continued choking out more sobs.

Kiku stood tense. No one moved. The other women that had been startled away remained where they stood, scattered apart from the table where the new addition was currently crying.

What surprised Kiku the most had to be Nana. She sat down, she sat down right next to Alfred. Her face was unreadable but her movements casual as she reached out and took up some of the dishes overturned in Alfred’s bout. She then began filling a bowl and soon she began to eat her breakfast.

Still, no one moved. The women were wary of the Westerner, especially because he was a male. Even though he was a young teen he was still taller than any woman in there and no doubt stronger as well. They were frightened of him.

But not Nana. Nothing ever disturbed her.

There she was, sitting next to him, eating. Just one glance from her gaze and the rest of the women scurried back to their seats and began preparing their own dishes. They ate quietly.

Kiku could see what Nana was doing. It was interesting. So this was how each new addition was transitioned into the home by the others.

In the midst of her meal Nana grabbed another bowl and began filling it. When she slid it over she let the tip lightly tap against Alfred’s elbow enough to alert him to its presence. His head jerked up and he looked at the offered dish before looking toward Nana in confusion. She only continued eating, keeping her eyes on her meal. Then, Alfred’s eyes wandered toward the other women, they followed Naga’s lead and focused on consuming their breakfast.

In the silence was a comfort and slowly ever so surely Alfred’s sobs quieted. He sniffed and looked down at his bowl. Kiku could see the hunger in his gaze. He’d been sleeping for so long that he knew the boy needed food for his empty stomach.

Finally, Alfred reached out and took up the bowl. Once more he gazed at the contents, unaware of Nana’s watching gaze from the corner of her eyes. Kiku wondered what she would do should he try to eat with his fingers again. He bit his bottom lip at seeing Alfred attempt just that, but before the tips of his fingers touched the food he stopped himself. Even Nana was surprised.

Both Kiku and Nana watched Alfred look around for the chopsticks. Nana had already slid a new pair next to the bowl before Alfred had seen her do it. When his eyes landed on them he reached forward and took hold of the utensils. Setting the bowl down Kiku watched Alfred attempt to hold them properly, he was doing poorly but even so he attempted to eat his food holding them like that.

He failed. Frustration was evident though not as pronounced as before when it had mixed with his mournful distress. On the verge of giving up Nana came to his rescue. She set her bowl and chopsticks down and then reached over. She clasped Alfred’s hands with her boney palms and slipped her fingers through his, showing him how to properly hold the dining ware and then how to apply it when moving his fingers.

It wasn’t perfect, and Kiku knew it would take some time, but Nana successfully got Alfred to finish his breakfast with said chopsticks.

After that ordeal Alfred had been given leave for his time of mourning. Nana was near, always near him, but she stayed her distance. It was Kiku who noticed her close in day by day until she, herself, deemed Alfred’s time of mourning over and time for cultural conversion to begin.

Kiku noted he had trouble with their greeting customs. Alfred did not want to offer a formal bow, especially when Nana told him to bow at a certain angle and so low. He especially did not want to stay seated on his knees, too often he complained that his legs had “fallen asleep” and it was up to Kiku to drag him back to his room.

Nana spared him no special treatment. While the other women steered clear of him they were still curious and followed his training from afar. Nana did not care though. She did not care that he was of a different race nor that he was male. She’d raised her own children before and saw to it that Alfred was treated no differently.

He soon cringed away from the sting of her fan and quickly did whatever she demanded with Kiku providing translation. This way of training was always a beat late because of the need for translation and Kiku could finally see Nana growing annoyed.

“Enough!” she threw her hands in the air and Alfred about darted back hadn’t he already been seated on his legs before her, already claiming his legs to have fallen into slumber. When Nana looked at Kiku who stood off in the corner of the room she pointed her fan at him. “You will begin to teach him our language. He is learning too slow.”

“So soon?” Kiku questioned. He took a glance toward Alfred who looked concerned himself. It’d been two months since he’d come to live in the Shogun’s home and the transition was still rocky. “He has not captured the rest of your tutoring.”

“Because he does not listen to my voice,” Nana explained. “He only listens to you because he understands you. He needs to hear and understand me. I am the head and he will respect me and my commands.”

What choice did Kiku have? At least the head mistress was kind enough to grant Kiku a considerable amount of time to take Alfred to the side and tutor him in their language.

Out in the courtyard is where Kiku decided he would teach him. It was quiet in that sector, the other one too rowdy with playful children. Here, the ponds swished and the trees bayed. Peaceful enough for clear of mind. One needed it for learning a new language, he would know.

“Nana-sama wishes you learn our language now, Alfred-san,” Kiku informed. Immediately he watched Alfred sigh. The boy turned his face, frown too clear. He didn’t say a word and Kiku was glad he didn’t because the silence was peaceful and the cool breeze from the warm summer around very welcoming.

Kiku could hear the chimes clacking together. Normally he would take to closing his eyes and listening to the sound of the waters, and the tree leaves, but he could not take his eyes off of the foreigner.

Alfred was wearing an orange kimono, this one better prepared than the hasty ones before. Nana taught him how to apply the layers, though Alfred was quite upset that he could not wear pants or the hakama Kiku wore. He looked very nice in what was required of his dress.

Kiku often wondered if the boy was saved solely for his beauty. He frowned at the thought, knowing his fate, and that of his own. Would he be released from the service of Alfred’s guard and translator once the American understood their language better? Kiku was sure Nana would take care of Alfred, she took care of the other women quite well.

Kiku would no doubt return back to his post. He had not seen his squadron since he’d been assigned as Alfred’s shadow. It would be nice to share sake with them again.

After that he’d return to his home. His empty house.

It was understandable why the prospect of returning to such a morbid home was felt in Kiku. After all that had happened in that place, it was understandable. But still . . .

“Alfred-san.” Kiku finally got the boy to look at him. He loved those blue eyes of his, so otherworldly, but so far-off. They were never there with them. They were searching, searching for somewhere else. “Are you ready?”

“No,” Alfred admitted with a small chuckle. He rolled his shoulders and then looked down at his large sleeves. After a month he thought he’d grown accustomed to these new clothing that male and females seemed to wear—mostly females being all he was around. “I miss home . . .”

Kiku nodded. “That is understandable. But, if you give this place a chance, you can love this land just as much as your old country.”

Alfred chuckled again. His eyes turned upward, up into the sky. “I don’t think so,” he sighed dreamily. Kiku watched him smile so fondly. He looked so calm in that moment, but so sad.

Nana wanted the boy educated in their language and so Kiku could not wait all day. “You must listen, Alfred-san,” Kiku pressed. “I will not be with you all of the time and so you must know when you are addressed and what is said about you.”

Alfred looked at him, his eyes blinking. He frowned and furrowed his brow in confusion. “Not going to be with me?” he questioned. “Where are you going?”

“I have other duties,” Kiku replied. He did offer a polite smile.

“Will you come back?” Alfred questioned. Even though Nana had to smack it into him Kiku watched him lean to his side, pulling his legs out from underneath him. No matter what he just could not stay seated properly. But, he was not before Nana nor the Shogun, Kiku would let him do this in front of him.

“There is no need,” Kiku informed though his heart beat just as unsure as Alfred’s. He wanted to come back and to see him, to make sure he was eating and sleeping properly, to make sure he was happy.

Alfred frowned and turned his gaze away in distain. “Then how will I ever like this place?”

Kiku blinked. “Whatever do you mean?”

Blue eyes then met his amber gaze. Alfred scooted closer. “Show me around.”

Kiku found himself flushing and moved to scoot just a little away. The Westerner knew proper etiquette, one did not sit so close to another.

“I’m afraid it is forbidden,” Kiku said.

Alfred frowned again. “Then how will I ever like this place?”

Kiku motioned to the home around them. “This place has tall places where you can climb to see the city, but be careful not to harm yourself. As for the woods, this section and the west section is free for you to explore. It is vast and should keep you entertained.”

“Is this what’s to become of me?” Alfred asked. “Am I to die in this place, dressed like _this_?” He looked down at the kimono and wrinkled his nose. It was a cute expression and Kiku found himself emitting a small laughter to his surprise. “I don’t see what is so funny.”

Kiku sighed and shook his head. “You’re alive, Alfred-san. You cannot ask for a greater blessing.”

But what Kiku hadn’t seen was the shape of Alfred’s spirit. He had that of a large bird with wide wings, wings that weren’t allowed to stretch in a place like this. If they did then the beams to the building would collapse and Alfred would bring about much trouble. But if birds could not fly then they would die, especially lonely birds.

Kiku sighed. “Come now, let us start with the basic greeting and farewell.”

No matter what, Alfred refused to learn. Kiku didn’t understand why the boy didn’t want to recognize the language being used around him. To correspond correctly to the people that you are to be around until death was necessary. Kiku knew Alfred was an intelligent child despite the playfulness and stubbornness of his attitude and personality. He also knew Nana saw it as well and so when he came to her and informed her of his failure to get Alfred to learn their language she was furious.

“He cannot go to his lord unless he enacts proper etiquette and fluency of language,” Nana insisted. So, she urged Kiku to continue to try, after all he was the only one who could hope to teach the American.

It was Nana’s decision. While she continued to instill proper Japanese manners and customs into the reluctant Westerner she continued to lengthen the time of his learning the language. Oddly enough, Kiku felt a relief wash over him. Sooner, during lessons of watching Alfred seal his lips and cross his arms in defiance was becoming acceptable.

Kiku hated a person easily distracted and Alfred was one of them. Too soon he’d hike up his kimono, hop into the courtyard and decide it was time to explore the western woods of the estate. And Kiku would follow.

“Alfred-san, please be careful. That tree is very old,” Kiku warned, watching the young teen hop onto its trunk and shimmy up into the branches.

Alfred scrunched his face and made to pout at Kiku, frightening the old warrior by haphazardly hanging off a branch by one arm. “Are you more worried about the tree or me?” he asked carelessly. Kiku noted the humor in the tone, but the question actually dug deftly deep into his inner consciousness. While Kiku and his fellow countrymen honored every living thing, be it animal or floral, and would see to it that even stones and trees were respected he could not help but feel his heart twist in concern at the sight of Alfred, the Westerner who seemed to have no care for his own wellbeing as he climbed up into the old tree whose branches could snap and cause the child to fall, injuring himself. Yes, it was Alfred who concerned Kiku more and not that old root.

While Kiku had searched his inner being for this answer Alfred had already reached the top of the tree and peaked over a few others. He sighed. “Not tall enough.”

Kiku definitely almost had a heart attack when he watched Alfred jump into another tree’s branches like a rabid monkey.

“Do not do that, Alfred-san!” Kiku was more demanding, his limbs tense and his stance firm. He was frowning. “Come down right now.”

Alfred just snickered and ignored him. “Calm yourself. I’ve done things like this since I was knee-high.” But then again, he’s never done such things in a kimono with all its movement restrictions. Of course he’d get the hem of it stuck on a raised poking branch and of course he would pull only for it to ride up.

The indecency of it all. Kiku could understand Nana’s upset with the boy’s antics. He was still of the male kind and inclined to certain acts of behavior, but it has been months since his arrival and tutorage; he should have more respect for the things around him and himself.

“Ah! No, no, I got this, just gotta tug,” Alfred announced, turning and giving his Kimono a tug only for Kiku’s heart to drop at the faint sound of a rip. If the American ruined that kimono Nana would have his head. Alfred was graced with a bounteous supply of silk by the Shogun and after measured he had more than enough outfits to give to charities but Nana would not have him think this, she would not stand for one thread of the clothing ruined.

Kiku hadn’t climbed trees since . . . oh, since he was just a young lad . . . with Sakura.

Sooner had Kiku found himself up into the branches next to Alfred and helping unsnag the kimono that the boy even looked taken aback. “Whoa, you climb fast; wouldn’t have guessed.”

Kiku said nothing as he worked. Once the fabric came undone from the branch’s fingers, Kiku pulled the covering back down over Alfred’s shamefully bared legs, then he looked at Alfred with authority. “Come down now.” Kiku was even going to lead the way but he forgot how Alfred faired with authority at times—especially around him.

“I still have to see what it looks like up there.” And Alfred continued to climb.

“Alfred-san, Alfred!” Kiku reached out to tug at the boy’s kimono to stop him. Alfred simply shook him off and continued. So, there Kiku stood, watching Alfred reach the top. He heard him gasp, which was quickly followed by, “Kiku! You’ve got to come see. Come on, come on!”

“No,” Kiku rejected. This child would not demand things of him. He was the adult. He should be respected. “You must return to the ground this moment.”

“Awww, come on!” Alfred turned to look at him. His blue eyes were shining. He was smiling even.

Kiku’s heart stopped.

Such youth, such vitality in those irises, that smile. He had such straight white teeth that urged Kiku to come join him. The decision was subconscious because the next thing the Samurai knew was that he was standing next to Alfred, his head popping out of the top branches. It was indeed a taller tree than the previous one, one could see the entire outlay of the western borders.

“It stretches that far, huh?” Alfred sighed and then smiled at Kiku. “I’ll wager you haven’t been up this high.”

“I have, a very long time ago,” Kiku muttered. Nostalgia tossed him back to a time when his mother had begged the same he had of Alfred—of a time in his early teens with such a beautiful maiden—such times were dear to his heart.

“Brings back the memories?” Alfred leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the branch pressed against his chest just to lean.

“Hai,” Kiku nodded. “Let us return.” Kiku didn’t concern himself this time if Alfred followed him in his quiet descent. He was too caught up in his thoughts. He had worked so hard to not dwell on those things.

The thud sound of Alfred hopping down off of the tree alerted Kiku to his presence.

“What’s wrong?” Alfred inquired. He looked concerned. “Didn’t mean to offend you.”

“It is improper to downgrade yourself with such activity. No member of Shogun-dono’s household should behave like such,” Kiku said, masking his own internal upset for an earlier offense. He walked away, expecting Alfred to follow him. He did.

Of course, Alfred followed him with his own personal monologue.

“You are the one who told me to see the estate. That’s all I was doing,” Alfred defended himself.

He was right, Kiku had suggested it, but of course that was in the heat of the moment. He had wanted Alfred to see the lay of the land and to accept it, not feel threatened. One way was to oversee everything offered.

Even so, Kiku remained silent. With their lesson still underway the two sat in silence. Kiku’s spirited troubled.

Alfred frowned at the unwelcomed silent treatment. “Gomenasai.” Alfred grinned when he watched Kiku’s head jerk up, his eyes open and look at him in surprise. The Japanese man hadn’t expected him to say that, had he?

Alfred softly chuckled and shifted to sit on his hip, pulling his legs out from under him. “You know, I won’t do that again if you’ll take me out to see the town.”

Kiku frowned and turned his face away. “I cannot. You are to remain within these walls.”

“Why?” Alfred questioned. He scooted closer and Kiku sighed. Improper, always around him. When had his authority waned? “Can’t let the others see a foreigner? Is that it?”

Kiku remained tight-lipped. One such as Alfred shouldn’t question, he had no right. Yet Kiku felt torn. He wanted Alfred to know why he was saved, why he was confined to live inside the Tokugawa’s estate.

It was trickery, it was dishonorable. All the more reason to get Alfred to learn their language. If he did then perhaps he could come to understand his place better with Nana’s reasoning him. Because Kiku didn’t have the heart to tell him. He’d become a coward, a disgraceful coward in front of Alfred . . . because he knew it would likely upset him and all Kiku wanted more than anything else since he set eyes on him was to see him smile.

“Let’s finish your lessons for today, Alfred-san.” Kiku turned to Alfred again, his own form signaled for Alfred to follow suit. The Westerner rolled his eyes and sighed. Kiku knew the boy could tell he was dodging wanted answers and so he subtly punished him with refusal to get anywhere that day.

Kiku felt he had made some sort of progress with him. During meals Kiku could see recognition in Alfred’s eyes while the rest of the women chatted amongst themselves. During lessons with Nana and her bouts of upset curses Kiku was surprised to watch Alfred follow her phrases. He wondered if Nana could see this.

Even so, the lessons would have to be cut soon. The waters were troublesome with many an ill rumor sailing across their expanse. Kiku was called to investigate. This would take a long time.

As the captain of the coastal guard he accepted his duty with honor, without a word of complaint. But he felt deeply torn. He felt afraid, afraid to leave Alfred. He would no longer be by his side to oversee his training, to lecture him, nor to shield him from the other guards’ dark gazes.

Kiku knew Nana would take care of the teenager, but he was afraid. Afraid that while he was away Nana would deem Alfred’s induction into the concubinage complete. That she would dress him, paint him, present him before the Shogun.

Never before had Kiku’s sense of honor felt so conflicted with his heart. Tokugawa was his Shogun, his sworn leader. They had been friends for many years, their loyalty and respect delving deep into their pasts. Yet, Kiku did not want the Shogun to touch Alfred, he did not want anyone to look at him.

Kiku wanted Alfred to remain pure and bright. He was afraid of what would become of the boy should he return and his deflowering already commenced. He’d dreamed nightmares of this ill fate and he had yet to leave.

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” Alfred questioned. Kiku had been silent during their language lesson and finally told Alfred about his mission. The boy hadn’t taken this too well. Kiku was surprised to see any form of attachment in him—especially after Kiku was the one to end his father’s life.

As expected, Alfred scooted closer. His hands rubbing against the wooden floors now curled into contracting fists. Kiku, however, continued to keep his eyes closed, his hands folded, and his head inclined slightly—trying to remain as calm as he should be. Alfred’s distress leaked out into his cracking voice just maturing into adulthood and it unsettled Kiku in ways it shouldn’t have.

“H-How long will you be gone? Not long, right? You’ll return?” Alfred’s questions were asked quickly, and if Kiku hadn’t been an avid listener he wouldn’t have been able to understand the pitching words at all.

“I am firstly sworn to this land’s coastal defense,” Kiku spoke up. He opened his eyes and met Alfred’s. It never ceased to amaze him how those blue eyes stared into his own. One so young should not look at one their senior, nor their better. Kiku brushed it off as a Western trait that would soon fade the more years Alfred remained in this land. “Me as your overseer comes secondly. I must honor my oath.”

Alfred bit his bottom lip. Kiku wished he wouldn’t. If the boy ruined those perfect plates of skin then Nana would blame him. She always did.

“But you’ll return?” Alfred asked.

“In time,” Kiku answered.

Then, Kiku gasped in time as his heart skipped a beat. Alfred had reached out. He had reached out and placed his hand upon Kiku’s.

“Will you return to me?” Alfred asked. His eyes looked afraid, not of the world around him, but of being left alone in it. He was too easily readable.

Kiku blinked in surprise. Once again he was thrown back into a time in his youth, when he had finally completed his training as a Samurai warrior and he was so ordered to take care of pirating ships terrorizing their merchant vessels. His young love, they were to be married, she had reached out, she had touched him, she had looked into his eyes, and she had asked him with that same look Alfred was giving him, “Will you return to me?”

_Sakura_ , Kiku felt his heart utter from the invoked memory. He remembered embracing her and kissing her before the town before his departure. Too strong of feelings had urged his body to act on its own accord. Feelings near as the ones he was feeling right then.

He was confused. Disturbed even. He knew in his heart that he should still be mourning that loss of his wife and their child she had taken with her to the grave, but then why . . . why was he feeling these things he once thought would never resurface in him again?

Since Kiku could not answer his internal questions he did not answer Alfred’s. Instead he simply moved himself away, pulling himself from Alfred’s touch and standing himself upright. It was time to leave, to return to his home and prepare himself for his journey.

“This will be the last lesson,” Kiku stated. He did not know if he should return to Alfred’s services. He did not know if he would be needed. When Kiku turned to Alfred he offered him a polite bow. “It has been my honor to tutor you, Alfred-san.”

He held the bow for a moment. His eyes closed and fists clenched to hide his unease in leaving the Westerner. It wasn’t as if Alfred was his to keep. But these past months spending with him created something in Kiku that he feared might be some kind of bond, and, well, he understood it best to break it before it became unhealthy and dishonorable.

Finally Kiku leaned back and opened his eyes. Alfred’s facial features hadn’t changed. So, Kiku offered him a comforting smile in the form of a farewell.

“Sayonara, Alfred-san,” Kiku said and turned. He knew it was wise to leave as quickly as possible. He did not need Alfred trying to change his set mind. It would be disrespectful to not accept his assigned mission, especially if his reasons for doing such a thing were based on his feelings for a concubine.

“Wait . . .” Kiku closed his eyes and tried to close his ears as well. His heart clenched when it shouldn’t have. “Wait . . . Kiku!” The tone was getting louder and the distress disrupting Kiku’s soul. He should not feel this way. It wasn’t right. Not at all.

“Kiku-san, watashi o hōchi shinaide kudasai!” [1]

Kiku’s heart leapt into his throat. He stopped. His eyes widened and he could not stop his body from turning around at the utter shock of hearing something so fluent flow out of Alfred’s mouth. When he had turned he watched Alfred jump to his feet, hike his kimono up to run faster. He was running toward him.

“Anata wa watashi ga nihongo o hanasu shitai baai wa, watashi ga shimasu. Tada hōchi shinaide kudasai!” [2] Alfred cried out. Kiku could see the moisture in his eyes as he stopped before him, a pant on his lips not from weariness but from upset and fright.

Kiku stood completely shocked. He had known Alfred had been listening, had been secretly learning their language when no one was looking, but what he just said . . . how he said it . . . it all just went straight to his heart.

“Watashi wa anata dake taizai suru baai wa, jinoyōni hanasu shite okou. Watashi wa hitori ni naritaku arimasen,” [3] Alfred begged, and Kiku swallowed hard.

Kiku should have left by then. It would be easier for the both of them. Instead his body acted on its own again like it hadn’t in years. He reached out, cupped the back of Alfred’s neck and pulled him close. Their foreheads touched in an endearing manner. Kiku could be banished, or killed, for this, but he felt himself smile at the closeness, especially at the sense of Alfred’s coming calm.

“If that is all it took for you to speak our language then I should have tried leaving a long time ago,” Kiku said in his native language. It was a lighthearted joke to keep the deep emotions at bay he knew he had for the boy—and wondered if the Westerner felt in kind.

Alfred, however, offered no laugh or smile of his own. He was frowning, pouting. His blue eyes looking at Kiku in plead he stay. But, just as Sakura let go of Kiku so many decades ago, then Alfred would just have to do the same.

“You are a young man, Alfred,” Kiku said, closing his eyes and willing Alfred take in the sense of controlled calm from his own spirit. “Sometimes you must face the world alone. I cannot always be here for you. I was not meant to.” Kiku then opened his eyes and viewed that Alfred had cast his own eyes down in sadness. “If destiny wills it that we separate then we must.”

Alfred’s eyes then flicked up back at Kiku. An intense blue flame raging inside. “We’re also given a choice,” Alfred spoke. Kiku mentally smiled at the perfect accent Alfred’s nearly gotten down. “If you could, would you choose to return to me?”

Kiku’s smile slowly faded. He gave Alfred’s nape one last squeeze before pulling away. “I am a Samurai warrior, Alfred. If I should find an opponent to offer me a challenge to change this fate then I would fight them.”

“You’d win,” Alfred assured. His smile was softer than before. Just turned lips, no teeth or gums. “I’ll be waiting.”

Alfred clasped his hands together and then offered Kiku a formal farewell bow. It was timed perfectly, executed effortlessly. Before, during Nana’s sessions he’d always seem so stiff and forced from his inner reluctance, but this came out natural before Kiku and it frightened the Samurai warrior.

It wouldn’t be long now before Alfred was ready to be shown before the Shogun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations probably aren't perfect. You know how translators can be. But, in any case, here are the phrases Alfred said in order:
> 
> [1] "Please don’t leave me, Kiku!"  
> [2] "If you want me to speak Japanese, I will. Just please don't leave!"  
> [3] "I'll keep speaking like this if you just stay. I don't want to be alone."


	3. Purpose

Kiku had been unsettled his entire mission. He worked diligently to investigate these rumors around the coasts, village by village if necessary. Nothing was found, but reports of foreign vessel sightings were documented.

The road home filled Kiku with dread. His return to the city quiet. He thanked his men who traveled with him and saw each to their homes and families.

In his home he remained for an entire month in solitude. It was not because he wanted to contain himself in the silence surrounding. It was because he was afraid. The Shogun had offered him an invitation to his home, welcoming him whenever he should feel rested enough to visit.

Kiku turned down the invitation. But it wasn’t long before he became ill. Ill with the need to see Alfred again.

Just the thought of his smiles and beautiful eyes was enough to revive Kiku’s weary travel-laden soul. But he felt sick to his stomach when his mind turned dark. He was afraid to come to see the boy smile no more. To see him touched and marked. To see his will and spirit broken.

Kiku needed to see him again, of that he knew for certain, but he forced himself to remain at bay for the sheer fear of his dark ominous thoughts coming to pass.

Kiku had been gone for months on his investigation around the coastal towns, villages, and cities. Now he remained more so kept in his home. Almost a year, that’s how long Alfred’s been in Japan; plenty of time to be presented before the Shogun.

The snow from the early of the year was thickening. It wasn’t good weather to travel in and Kiku understood the Shogun to particularly dislike the ice. He would want to see no visitor at this time of year.

Yet . . . there Kiku stood as the snow lightly fell down, coating the sky above a misty grey. His breath came out in even puffs. He stood in front of the Shogun’s home, the guards at the door already welcoming him and holding the door open for him, but Kiku remained still, looking at the home where he had spent many of his years in his youth. He was privileged with a unique memory of the place and yet those all seemed dim and dark compared to what these rich walls currently held within its confines.

A beautiful and rare gem only a select few were allowed to see and admire.

“Heh, there he is again,” Kiku caught one of the shivering guards snicker.

Kiku watched one of the guards move from his post, stepping backwards, his head tilted upward, eyes squinting. “Yep, there he is. Up there. I’m surprised he hasn’t hurt himself yet.”

“Kid’s skilled in climbing.”

“Surprised he’s not gotten in trouble.”

“You know why he hasn’t.”

A chuckle and roll of the eyes. “Of course I know. Can get away with anything because he’s so pretty.”

Kiku slowly came out of his inner seclusion from the guards’ words. His eyes then followed their gaze up, up, and up toward a high roof. It was dangerous to be up so high and yet there Alfred was, wrapped in a warm cloak, arms wrapped around a pike, looking into the courtyard.

Kiku felt the moment their gazes met. Alfred was far away but he saw him smile. In that instant he began to climb down, not slipping on the ice coated roof one bit.

“Oh, he’s gone,” one of the guards noted. “He’s usually up there for hours.”

Kiku remained quiet in the guards’ conversation. It was not safe nor healthy to remain up there for hours on end. What was Alfred thinking?

Kiku hadn’t had much time to dwell on such thoughts when out came Alfred himself, running out into the courtyard. Kiku’s eyes widened. What was Alfred doing?!

The guards even seemed surprised. They jumped back like startled cats when Alfred flew past the gate and with arms thrown open wide embraced Kiku tightly. The guards simply stood their gawking, not knowing what to do.

Kiku was surprised himself. Firstly be seeing Alfred come run out to greet him and then by this embrace. It was impolite, but Kiku understood this to be a Western mannerism. He understood it was meant to be used for those held dear to the embracer. Kiku felt his cheeks heat.

“Alfred-san, please release me. It is disgraceful,” Kiku said, he eyed the guards warily. Even so, Alfred’s arms were strong and his body generated a warmth Kiku simply melted into. He’d remain there forever had not his pride beat against him.

Instead of listening Alfred squeezed Kiku tighter. “I missed you so much, Kiku!” he exclaimed, his smile so big. “I waited every day. You finally came back. Just like you promised.”

Kiku’s rapidly beating heart slowed its pace at hearing that. Even his arms inched outward, his hands slowly pressing against Alfred’s warm shoulder blades. The heat inside this youth.

For a moment Kiku forgot the wide-eyed stares from the gate guards. For a moment Kiku forgot that it was improper for Alfred to be seen outside of the estate. For a moment he forgot that Alfred was a concubine of his Shogun and therefore it was forbidden for Kiku to embrace him like so—but how he wanted to. How he wanted to keep holding him like this.

It had been Alfred to pull himself away, finally looking at Kiku. Alfred had grown some, he was getting tall, and his hair seemed longer. No doubt Nana’s doing in wanting the boy’s hair to grow-out for proper hairclips and styles befitting of their culture and his occupation.

White teeth and gums and the brightest blue eyes Kiku’s ever seen. Kiku released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding after seeing Alfred’s spirit clear upon his being. He was still the same. Thank God.

But, did that mean . . .?

“You’re freezing,” Alfred noted, taking Kiku’s hands in his own. He frowned at him before pulling out another smile. “I know! Nana taught me how to make tea. That should warm you up. Come on, I got to show you!”

Kiku found himself being pulled inside. It was very disgraceful but he felt at ease with the way Alfred’s hands grasped his own. They were strong, sturdy, sure, and warm. Kiku didn’t want him to let go.

“Alfred? Did you just leave the building?” Kiku recognized that as his Shogun’s voice. He should have pulled away from Alfred right away but he failed to act on rational thoughts. Instead he watched Tokugawa approach the both of them the moment they entered the main building.

Alfred simply smiled and tugged Kiku closer. He was the one to let go of him and offer a polite bow to Tokugawa. “I did,” Alfred answered in Japanese. Kiku’s been gone a long time. When he had left Alfred and the Shogun hadn’t even been acquainted yet. Did that mean . . . ? “I was excited upon Kiku-sama’s arrival. Forgive me, Shogun-dono.”

Tokugawa smiled pleasantly at Kiku and offered him a bow, Kiku did so in suit. His eyes then turned to Alfred. Kiku saw the gentler smile and the darker longing in his gaze. It was quite clear he was very fond of the newest addition to his harem.

“I understand,” the Shogun said, his eyes on Alfred. “But, please, heed my words this time and remain inside. It is dangerous out there.”

“Hai,” Alfred replied, bowing once more. “Allow me to prepare tea for my lord and Kiku-sama in honor of his return?”

Tokugawa smiled and nodded. “Granted,” he replied. Alfred’s head perked up and he smiled. When he turned to Kiku the Samurai blushed and tried to hide it the best he could, luckily his excuse was the cold outside.

Many things had changed since his departure. Alfred spoke more often, not even afraid return conversation in Japanese. He was seen out in the halls and rooms more often than in the courtyards and the concubines’ chambers. Even more so he interacted with the Shogun more than ever.

A lot had happened in the months Kiku had been absent. But his internal questions would have to wait as he sat next to his Shogun as his honored guest and watched Alfred prepare tea for them. He remembered Nana speak about teaching Alfred this traditional technique long ego, but his other training had come first. This must mean Alfred had been more than compliable with the old woman.

Kiku wondered when he suddenly gave up his stubbornness. He’d have to ask him later. Right then he was transfixed. Alfred did everything perfectly, like he’s been practicing this art for years. He was such a quick learner it was amazing he was a Westerner.

Out of the corner of his eyes Kiku could see Tokugawa’s own fascination. He had seen Kiku looking and so turned to him with a smile and said, “He had been practicing a lot whilst you were away.”

“Hai, I am observing such mastery,” Kiku replied with a nod, his eyes turning back to Alfred who was now pouring hot water into the cups. “What refined skill.”

“Hai,” Tokugawa nodded. “He has come a long way. I am very proud of him.”

“Shogun-dono.” Alfred bowed, offering the first cup to the highest of position.

Tokugawa smiled. “Let Kiku-san be the first to receive this honor,” he said, motioning for Alfred to hand the cup to the Samurai warrior.

Kiku felt his heart pound against his chest. Oh, how the distance made the soul long. He watched Alfred tilt his eyes to look at their Shogun in surprise before turning to Kiku. Their eyes met once before Alfred quickly darted them down and then offered the steaming cup to him.

Kiku reached out. His hands touched Alfred’s, the contact remained longer than necessary yet gone too soon as Alfred left the fate of the stability of the teacup in Kiku’s grasp. Kiku hadn’t taken a sip of it yet. His eyes fixated on Alfred as he prepared another cup of tea, this time offering it to Tokugawa.

When the Shogun received his cup he raised it in cheer to Kiku who then drank in silence. The tea was good.

Tokugawa of course wanted a worded account of Kiku’s travels and with an ever listening Alfred, Kiku told the Shogun all there was to know about his mission. After which the formal ties began to lesson and Kiku and Tokugawa’s old friendship emerged with Kiku glancing toward Alfred.

“Many things have changed since I had departed. I notice Alfred-san more comfortable in your presence, Tokugawa-sama.” Kiku looked toward his Shogun who nodded, setting his cup down on the small table before them. It was rare to let one such as Alfred stay in the room with the Shogun and his guest, but both knew the boy well and his presence was desired.

“Alfred had become unreasonably sad after you left,” Tokugawa informed, his eyes glancing over toward Alfred along with Kiku. The soldier noticed Alfred keeping his gaze down in respect. Nana must have drilled him to the bone to keep him to stay like this. He usually was up and about after only ten minutes.

Kiku chuckled at Tokugawa’s comment, but the Shogun continued, “So I offered to teach him how to play Go.”

Kiku smiled and turned to Alfred. “You know how to play Go now, Alfred-san?”

This time Alfred looked up and met gazes. He seemed to mostly do this with Kiku. He smiled and nodded. “I’m decent,” he replied and tilted his head downward again.

A snort caused Kiku to turn to his Shogun who was crossing his arms and frowning. “The boy didn’t want to learn for the longest time. It took Nana-sama to drag him out by his ear for him to come to me. He’s quite good though, beat me a few times. But we’ve passed the nights without you like that.”

Kiku nodded. Now he understood Alfred’s ease around the Shogun. Now he wanted a chance to play the game with Alfred to test his skills.

“It does us both good to have you returned, where you belong,” Tokugawa said. He always smiled pleasantly at Kiku, but his smile was deeper for Alfred and Kiku hated himself for wanting him to stop. What had that boy done to him to turn him against his leader like so?

Even though Alfred was learning better on his own for once the Shogun still saw it fit to have Kiku stand in his training as overseer. Apparently he just didn’t want to learn their writing.

“You’ve learned our language, customs, and traditions and yet you will not learn our writing? Why is this, Alfred-san?” Kiku questioned. Nana had handed the boy over to him and Kiku took Alfred out onto the patio in the quiet of the mornings, because he knew Alfred worked his best at that hour—but as of late he’d been distant, deep in thought.

“What’s the point?” Alfred questioned. His gaze met Kiku’s. Before the Shogun and the magistrates Alfred kept his gaze down and head bowed as was trained, but in private he would look Kiku in the eyes. Kiku wondered if he did the same to the Shogun in their nightly sessions of Go.

Kiku sighed. He thought they had moved past Alfred’s stubborn streak. Looking down he picked up the brush and dipped it in ink. Slowly he began drawing the kanji symbols. If Alfred could only see the beauty of it all.

“For one,” Kiku began. “You can read and write our books and letters.”

Alfred only frowned. “How am I supposed to go to a bookstore?” He questioned. Even though Alfred was quite fluent in Japanese now he resided to speak English with Kiku in private—as if he felt it safe to preserve that part of himself with just the Samurai. “I can’t leave.”

“The servants can get you books, or I can,” Kiku informed. Clearly Alfred did not like the life of being waited on.

The American sighed. “What if I don’t _like_ the book you pick out?”

Kiku frowned, rubbing his neck. “What are you trying to say, Alfred-san?”

“I’ve been doing good,” Alfred explained, he even raised his fingers to count off his accomplishments. “I got down the customs; the bowing, the sitting, the greetings and farewells. I understand the culture more. I even worked on tea preparing. What more does everyone want until they deem I’m ready to go out into the cities and towns and country?”

Of course that was it.

But Alfred didn’t know because he was naïve. Alfred didn’t know because no one forwardly told him. Alfred didn’t know because Kiku was afraid that he’d lose his smile.

It wasn’t proper for a concubine to leave the estate or even the designated wing. The only time one such could is if the Shogun so wishes it. It was all his decision and by the looks of his affection for the boy, Kiku knew the old man would not have anyone else look at Alfred.

The American would never see the outside world.

Kiku knew he hadn’t the heart to answer the reasons behind Alfred’s seclusion. So, he said, “Why do you not ask Nana-sama of this?”

Alfred sighed and rolled his eyes. “I did,” he replied. “But she only told me that I need to find favor with the Shogun. So I learned everything and did what I was supposed to during our nightly games. He seemed happy enough but nothing’s come of it. I would ask him straightly but Nana has told me that it is improper to ask anything of Tokugawa. She said that he has to decide on his own. How can he when he doesn’t know what I want?”

Alfred sighed again and crossed his arms. He looked upset.

“Alfred-san,” Kiku felt the Western look at him. “Sometimes it is best you are not presented to the world.”

The boy’s shoulders slumped. “It’s because I’m a foreigner,” Alfred reasoned. “It’s because of the way I look. I’m just too different.” There was a pause before Kiku heard Alfred say something he wished he hadn’t. “I should have been killed with my father then,” Alfred said grimly. Kiku looked at him. The sadness in his glassy gaze was quite haunted. “I cannot conform to this culture if I am not meant to live in it.”

Alfred stood up, said not another word, and then left. Kiku did not press him to return and in fact left him to himself. It was no surprise that Nana would approach him and speak to him about Alfred’s upset.

“When you are away he is sad,” Nana spoke up as she and Kiku sat in her meeting room to discuss the young Westerner. “When you return he is happy, but only for a while. All too soon his spirit is upset and he secludes himself to his room.”

Kiku said nothing. He sat before the head mistress with tea in his hand, his mind elsewhere, his eyes watching slowly as the steam rose from the green liquid.

“Can you tell me why the boy is so upset?” Nana asked.

Kiku looked up toward her. He had not drank a drop of tea and so set the cup down on the table. He was certain the drink was not as good as the tea Alfred had prepared anyway.

“He longs to stretch his wings and fly, Nana-sama,” Kiku informed. He watched her nod.

“It is hard to cage a bird, especially one as exotic as him,” she replied, understanding Kiku completely. “He wants to see the land and the people?”

“Hai,” Kiku said.

“Do you think he should?” she questioned, her eyes ever observing of his facial features and gestures.

Kiku frowned. Of course he did not. He was afraid of the wolves roaming around, even amongst his own people. Even if by right Alfred belonged to the Shogun that would not stop the desire rising in wretched men’s hearts.

Away in the night Alfred could be snatched up. The concubines’ chambers were the least guarded sector of the estate. Certainly such a thing has never happened before but Kiku would not doubt Alfred to evoke the first instance of such an offense.

There were horrible people out in the world and Kiku wanted Alfred kept from them all, even if he must agree to the cage biting into Alfred’s wings, killing him.

Nana sighed. She understood Kiku’s silence as well. She drank her tea, finished it, and set the empty cup down. “I too agree he be kept from those around. He’s a beautiful child, even for a Westerner. But the courts are a much more dangerous place than the outside world.”

Kiku hadn’t thought about that too much. He felt that Alfred could remain sheltered in Tokugawa’s estate. But there was still the possibility that the Shogun show off the treasures in his household in any amount of chance. China, Korea, even the Dutch could see Alfred amongst the other women.

It would be an offense to even touch him, but just one look at the boy and all cares for laws would be swept aside for a chance to do just that. He had a strange power, one that was clear he didn’t understand himself.

“He is almost ready, Kiku-san,” Nana spoke up. “In fact, he is ready at this moment.”

Kiku’s heart nearly stopped at what she had just said. He tried to remain solemn but his upset was evident and she could see it. Though, her opinions of his actions were kept to herself.

“Then why have you not commenced the presentation?” Kiku asked even though it was through his teeth.

Nana sighed. “Even this old lady feels sentiment for others. I haven’t the heart,” she admitted. Kiku looked surprised, his eyes widened. “So, I have held it off until the Shogun so calls him. I’m afraid, though, he is catching on to my poise. It won’t be long now until he so orders it.”

Kiku could understand Nana’s reasoning but not why the old woman decided such things on a foreigner no less. She had not been so kind to the newer concubines before Alfred, nor even the ones under her tutoring back when she was younger, when the Shogun’s father reigned.

“Why Alfred, Nana-sama?” Kiku needed to know. Perhaps she felt the same as he and if so then he would be comforted in knowing he wasn’t the only being affected so strongly by the Westerner. “Why is he so different that you would save him what time you can?”

Nana chuckled. She shook her head. “I’m growing old,” she said, pouring herself another cup of tea. “This must mean I should retire.” Once the cup was full she blew on it to cool the liquid. “He’s a free spirit, one such as I’ve never seen before. I often wonder if all Westerners are like him.” She drank a sip. “I fear that submitting to the Shogun would tear that spirit from him. I fear what would happen to him afterwards. His smiles are pleasant, his laughter endearing. A bright youth that should be treasured as he is for eternity. The Shogun will not wait for that, but he can wait until he realizes what I am doing.”

Nana continued to watch over Alfred and even still she insisted Kiku try to teach him how to read and write. Alfred stubbornly refused but Kiku understood that he was probably just secretly listening, and secretly writing on his own like he usually did. Even still, Alfred was growing unhappy by the day.

Well, until the day the Shogun declared his entire household to leave his estate to enter the city to observe the blossoming sakura petals.

Alfred had been so excited that day. He did everything he was told to and put on his best behavior. When they reached the forest of sakura trees and made an encampment about it where only the entourage and other close friends of the Shogun were allowed to reside in was Alfred allowed to wander within its confines.

All too quickly the boy wandered off and away from the others. In a way Kiku was glad he had. His presence would not be missed if he had not been firstly noticed. Kept in with the rest of the concubines none opted to look their way because of the Shogun’s presence.

The guests were too busy eating, drinking, and speaking with the Shogun and his family. It was from this distraction that Alfred had wandered off, farther than even the set boundaries. Nana had been the one to come to Kiku and inform him this.

So it was Kiku who searched for Alfred. When he found him he was between two larger sakura trees, their petals falling all around him, littering his hair, illuminating the bright kimono he wore. His blue eyes were a perfect contrast to the hued pink around.

“Alfred-san, you have journeyed too far. You must return,” Kiku said after a long silence of not being able to speak from the sight of the boy.

Alfred looked up. He had been writing something down on a piece of parchment and quickly shoved it behind himself. Not quite subtle at all.

“Give me the paper as well,” Kiku said, holding out his hand.

“What paper?” Alfred asked, once again back to English if only around Kiku.

“The one you are hiding behind your back,” Kiku stated. “I would think no harm of it if you are not trying to hide it. Is it something wrong?”

“No, it’s mine,” Alfred insisted but all too soon Kiku noticed the growing blotch of ink staining near Alfred’s back.

“Alfred-san, your . . . back.” Kiku sighed. It had been a nice kimono. Nana would have his head for certain.

Alfred gasped, turning around and looking at the stain. It was a shame it was so noticeable.

“Oh, oh no!” Alfred cried, quickly standing up to try to look at the damage himself.

Kiku noticed the piece of paper laying against the roots of the sakura tree and the writing tool next to it. He reached down and picked it up—Alfred paid no mind in his attempt to dab the stain out with a licked palm—when Kiku examined the piece of thin wood he noticed the end pointed, reminding him of a quill the Dutch normally use. He smiled to himself; of course Alfred would make his own writing utensil if he didn’t prefer brushes. Looking at the paper surprised him the most. Alfred had been drawing the trees and writing about them, but the letters were not Japanese.

“Darn it, won’t come out,” came Alfred’s complain. His only answer to the problem was to simply take off the top. He pulled his arms out of the sleeves and let the outer kimono lay against his sides only holding up with the obi tie.

He turned and noticed Kiku looking at his paper. He sighed and approached him.

“What are you writing about, Alfred-san?” Kiku inquired, his eyes on the written letters Alfred had scratched down.

“Stuff,” Alfred answered. Kiku didn’t understand the word and so looked at him in confusion. His eyes widened however once he noticed that Alfred had not dressed himself properly. He should have layers of clothing but it seemed he neglected in wearing such.

The boy’s torso was bared before all and he hadn’t the decency to care. That spring day had been hotter than most but that did not give Alfred a right to walk about in the upper nude like there was no offense.

Kiku had been so shocked to see Alfred like this that he couldn’t word anything. Instead, Alfred only shrugged his shoulders and turned toward the east, where the salty breezes from the sea originated.

“I promised myself a little while ago that if I got the chance to see the outside world then I’d write about it.” Alfred then turned back to Kiku who was trying to compose himself. Alfred wasn’t very good in skills of observation. “You know, so I can take back some things for when I go home.”

That phrase had been enough to sedate Kiku and ground him. He blinked. His head inched back in confusion before comprehending just what Alfred was implying.

“Return home, Alfred-san?” Kiku questioned. Where had the boy gotten that idea thrust into his mind?

Alfred sighed. He turned and leaned against a tree, one arm reaching up to touch the delicate blossoms. When he pulled down a smaller branch and inhaled the flowers’ fragrance Kiku felt his heart roll inside his chest. Forever would this image instill itself in the Samurai.

“What else are you going to do with me?” Alfred asked. When his eyes met Kiku the older swore they were glowing. “I’m not allowed out in the city because I can’t ever fit in. I understand. I’m to be sent back someday. That’s the only explanation from what I see.”

Kiku made to say the reasons why that was all wrong, but the words caught in his throat. It was the perfect time to tell him. There was no one around but the two of them.

But if Kiku did he was risking seeing that calm spirit disturbed. He was risking those smiles to fade into frowns. He was risking that laughter to change into mournful sobbing.

It was too much of a risk and Kiku cursed himself for not having the strength to tell Alfred the truth.

He really should have. He and Alfred had grown close and he knew the boy would understand if the meaning behind his salvation from the katana came from him. Instead, Kiku found himself in the wrong for silencing himself, for leading Alfred back to the party.

Nana had been upset about the stain, but even more so about Alfred baring his torso in front of the others. She was quick to cover him and then scold Kiku for not warning the boy of his improperness. Alfred, torso bared, golden skin standing next to the lighter shades of sakura blossoms looked quite enticing Kiku had completely forgotten about the indecency of it all—all too quickly finding himself in recluse in his own thoughts that troubled him as of late.

Perhaps that was the final motive. That or time, it didn’t matter. But Alfred looked too enticing that spring. Kiku found this out when Nana came to him after everyone had returned to the Shogun’s estate.

Nana had been in tears, her body trembled. When she told Kiku his world seemed to shatter. He could remember how it felt for his heart to break, it nearly killed him upon his wife and child’s deaths, but now he was feeling it again. He had never thought he’d relive that horrible feeling again, but he was and as he clenched his chest with his hand Nana bowed her head.

The Shogun ordered the head mistress to prepare Alfred and send his chambers within the week.

Nana and Kiku could preserve him no more. His destined fate was on its way to fulfillment. Sooner now Alfred would understand his meaning for staying with the Shogun and both the Samurai and head concubine feared it would change the boy forever. It would and both knew it would not be for the good.

But there was no saving him. Kiku was just a simple Samurai warrior sworn to the loyalty of death to the Shogun. He could not defy his master, nor could Nana.

She was the best out of both of them. She subtly prepared Alfred for his presentation throughout the next couple of days. She’d comb his hair back and pin it in a way she knew that her master liked. She would make Alfred wear the colors favored by the Shogun. She would fragrance him, make him perform duties as if he were in the presence of the Shogun.

Alfred complied with her not knowing why she had been doing this to him. Nana could not favor him any longer. Her duty was to prepare young concubines and she was doing just that.

In these days Kiku had distanced himself quickly. He hadn’t the heart to be there when Alfred was presented. He hadn’t the heart to handle his shock and upset.

Even so he was troubled. Troubled at the thoughts of his master touching Alfred, of completely claiming him. It was the Shogun’s right and Alfred’s duty as his concubine, yet Kiku’s heart warred with his will and his soul became tormented and conflicted.

Kiku had been at his post with his men when he had received a letter from Nana. She had urged his return. She had informed him of Alfred’s discovery of his purpose.

Kiku shouldn’t have gone. He should have stayed at his post, with his men to keep his mind away from the Westerner he should not bare feelings for. It was the sensible thing to do.

But instead Kiku found himself running back to the Shogun’s estate. Now, Nana stood before him, her face grim.

“The previous night,” she said, looking at Kiku. That was when Alfred found out. She then turned back toward the hall holding Alfred’s room. It was dark, barren of any occupant save for him. “He did not sleep the entire night. When morning came he would not let any of us in. He barricaded his room. I would not send for the guards nor would I inform the Shogun. He expects him soon, Kiku-san. I know you can bring him out.”

Kiku understood. He did not wish to help this carry on in any way, but he understood that he was possibly the only one who could talk the American into coming out. Well, if that were true then how come he was so silent before Alfred’s bedroom door?

For a while Kiku just stood there before the door. He didn’t know what to say. All he could do was listen. He could hear faint sounds coming from inside but of their meaning Kiku was unsure.

Since he could not say a word he did not. Instead he tried pulling on the door. Nana was right, Alfred had barricaded his room.

In silence Kiku left. He knew one place that he was certain Alfred would have forgotten to secure: the window. From the outside he peeked into the room. Inside he could see Alfred and his eyes widened.

Sliding the window open he pushed himself inside. “Alfred-san, what are you doing?!”

Alfred turned to Kiku, his eyes wide and cheeks tear-stained. In his hands was a knife, his other hand holding his longer locks of hair to slice off to join the other golden strands at his feet. Alfred’s face contorted in anger and in defiance he cut his hair before Kiku to see.

Holding the longer strand of hair in his hand he shook his fist. “Is this what this was?” Alfred asked, his tone high and angry. “You all were grooming me for that bastard!”

The longer hair Nana had strived to grow out with the boy had been cut. His hair looked a mess, short and uneven. Kiku even noticed the traces of white paint on Alfred’s skin. It looked as if the women had even dressed his skin in paint the previous night, Nana no doubt tried to ease it on him before informing him of the reason for it.

Lips still painted red, smudges of the hue even around Alfred’s eyes. The American would have looked breathtaking hadn’t the state of his person now been so distressed.

Even Alfred’s state of undress shown Kiku how Nana and the others tried preparing him. Golden pins and the rest of the layers of his lavish kimono lay scattered across the room, along with his cut golden locks. The air even smelled of sweeter fragrance currently coating Alfred’s skin. Kiku believed that in a day he would have been deemed presentable before the Shogun.

How like Alfred to set back Nana’s plans.

So, this was Kiku’s purpose? To coax the American out of the room so the ladies could finish their preparation of him and send him to their master to please. This was not part of his sworn duty, but it was for his lord. The Shogun was Alfred’s lord as well whether he was willing to accept him as head in his life or not.

Still . . .

Kiku knew in his heart he was not doing this for Tokugawa. As he stepped forward, raising his hands to show Alfred he meant no threat the Samurai realized that all he wanted in that moment was the Westerner. All he wanted was for Alfred to see just how beautiful he was and why he was chosen to fill this role in the Japanese culture.

Alfred stepped back the more Kiku pressed closer. The teen’s eyes, red with stinging moisture, narrowed at him in his approach. Kiku said nothing. Alfred said nothing.

“Stay away!” Alfred threatened, holding the knife out in threat to the ascending Samurai warrior.

Kiku paused. His hands rose a little higher. He probably shouldn’t have said this, but he could think of nothing else to say in the moment, and his heart urged him to get these words out, “You’re beautiful, Alfred-san.”

Alfred blinked. His shoulders tensed, his body becoming rigid at Kiku’s statement. Kiku then watched Alfred shift into an angry persona once more and instead of keeping the knife out before Kiku in threat he brought it to his own face.

He meant to slice his perfect features.

“IIE!” Kiku cried out. He lunged forward, he was still quite kick. He reached out and caught Alfred’s wrist and pulled it. The blade came so close to cutting Alfred’s paint-tinted golden skin.

Yet, Alfred would not give up his intention. He pulled on Kiku’s grasp, trying to bring the blade back to his face but Kiku caught onto this pull quick and so resorted to punching the teen. His knuckles met his jaw and dazed the boy, giving Kiku enough time to take the blade out of his hand.

The moment the sharp object was out of his grasp Alfred pulled away. He ignored the painful throb in his stiff jaw and shoved himself away from Kiku. He fell down upon his futon, his knees now too weak and arms too heavy from the tense fear that had encased him all the previous night and the entirety of the present day.

Kiku caught his panicked breath, his entire body was awash in a chilling sweep. The very thought of Alfred hurting himself like that, of his beautiful image marred so easily, Kiku had been so very frightened. It wasn’t over the concern of the Shogun’s most promising and desired concubine, but over the boy himself, whom Kiku had grown too fond of.

He had struck him. It was the first time Kiku had ever laid a hand on him in such a way. He did not regret it. He’d do it again if Alfred so much tried to do that to himself one more time.

Turning with the knife still in his tight grip, Kiku beheld the boy. He was now huddled on his futon, the covers sprawled out over and around the mattress. From Kiku’s heightened senses in the moment of his attack mode he caught the sound of Alfred’s soft sobs slowly growing in volume.

He could see the boy’s shoulder’s shaking, his body rocking back and forth as he buried his face into a cloth, an old and torn cloth. Kiku’s eyes widened at the recognition of the faded red and white stripes and the indigo colors off to the side of it. It was the boy’s birth country’s flag, the one his father had given him as he was taken away. He had hid and saved it in his room.

Nana wanted Kiku to talk to Alfred, the encourage him to leave his room, to return to the women who were preparing him, to be lead to the Shogun’s room, to present himself before the man, to lay under him in obedience. But Kiku could not utter a word. How could he when he wanted none of this as much as Alfred?

It was Alfred’s duty to see to his role, and it was Kiku’s duty to serve the Shogun and to see to his success in command. Yet then why did Kiku’s heart feel so conflicted seeing Alfred like this? Why did Kiku feel as if his true duty was to kneel before the Westerner, to swear his sword and life to him? Kiku would commit seppuku if Alfred so asked this of him.

A heart cannot serve two masters.

Kiku was born to be a servant, his life knew no else. So his body acted in kind to his submitting spirit. The blade slipped from his limp fingers as his knees hit the floor and he bowed before Alfred, closing his eyes and giving himself to the boy. He’d chosen Alfred. His master could command him to do whatever he wanted and Kiku would never complain.

“How could you, Kiku?” A trembling sob broke out in the room but Kiku did not open his eyes nor raise his head before his master. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Kiku could feel Alfred looking at him now. He could sense those sad blue eyes leaking mournful tears and Kiku readied to cry with him.

Nothing but sobs encased the room and it broke Kiku’s heart to hear them. But he remained still, bowed, lain out before the American who couldn’t comprehend his actions in his state of mind. Alfred just continued to cry into his nation’s flag, holding it close to himself for a kind of comfort in this time of uncertainty.

“I should have died . . .” Alfred inhaled a snotty sob and coughed into the fabric of his worn flag. “You should have killed me too, Kiku!”

Without command Kiku leaned up, his eyes opened and he looked toward Alfred. He was sitting on his futon, his body hunched over, trembling, his face red and eyes wetting the tattered flag clung in his grasp.

Kiku found himself reaching out, touching the American’s shoulders, pulling him around to look at him. Their eyes met but the tears did not stop falling down Alfred’s cheeks, they only proved to encourage the ones in Kiku’s own eyes—ones he’d never thought he’d feel again.

“If you were to die then I should as well!” Kiku swore, his heart pounded in his chest at this confession.

Alfred looked confused, his eyes searching Kiku’s. The pain in the Samurai warrior’s chest was unbearable and he let go of Alfred, once more falling to the ground in submission to the boy.

“This is Tokugawa-sama’s estate. He is the Shogun, he is the lord. We are but vassals of his to do with as he pleases. I cannot change my fate and I cannot change yours.” Kiku swallowed hard. His exclamation almost sounded like a regretful apology in Alfred’s ears. “We can only obey, that is the law.” Kiku felt his being shake and his fingers curl into clenched fists. He’d never felt so forced to believe something in his life. What a wretched and dishonorable servant he was.

“Is that what you want?” Kiku froze at the sound of Alfred crying once more. “You want me to obey your backwards society?”

What Kiku wanted . . .

The soldier looked up at Alfred again. He was sitting properly before him, trying to compose himself, but the sadness in his gaze and trembles from his body called for the attention of another.

Slowly, Kiku leaned up, he reached out, the tips of his fingers feeling the wetness of the boy’s cheeks.

“I want you to smile,” Kiku felt his heart encourage his mouth to say. He pressed his palm harder against Alfred’s warm cheek, his heart tossing itself against his chest at feeling the boy lean into the touch. “I want to hear your laughter. I want to see you climb every tree in this land. I want to see you ride our horses, play our games, mingle with the populace, take part in our festivities, run along our beaches.” Now Kiku was cupping both of Alfred’s cheeks, looking into those sad glowing irises. “I want to see you stretch your wings and fly. I want to see you happy . . . Alfred-sama.”

But Kiku wouldn’t get a chance to see any of these things, would he? Alfred was doomed to remain trapped in this estate. To be used as the Shogun saw fit. Kiku knew Tokugawa, knew that he already favored Alfred and would take care of him.

Never before had Kiku thought of his own want for happiness. It seemed to coincide with Alfred’s. They were the same.

Their lips even fit perfectly together and they breathed the same breath.

Kiku held him gently. If Alfred wanted to pull away then he could. He did. The American pulled away from Kiku’s soft kiss and looked at him with wide blinking eyes.

It was polite to bow and submit himself before his master, but Kiku pressed close again. Alfred’s lips were sinfully soft and his body radiated a warmth much more enticing than even that of a woman’s. The American was quite inexperienced, no doubt having never kissed anyone in his known life, so it was understandable why he was afraid to return pressure and meet Kiku’s passion in the middle.

Kiku’s right hand steadies the boy’s head. It tipped to the right and then to the left like he was lightheaded. Soon enough both of Kiku’s hands are holding the Westerner’s head in a cupping grasp, letting the unbalanced skull rest in his palms.

The head tilts back and Kiku is over him now. Alfred is lain out under him and Kiku is straddling him. His knees are touching Alfred’s hips and he holds him there, his jaw still cupped in his palms, pulling to press lips against lips.

A moan rumbles out of the blonde’s throat and past Kiku’s teeth. He licks the bones as they reverberate against each other from the sound and then he pulls back. A sigh leaves Alfred’s mouth that sounds like an intake of breath.

Kiku does not pause. He leans down and begins to kiss that painted neck. Every centimeter of patches of skin he takes between his teeth and suckles. Kiku learns Alfred is so very sensitive just under his jaw.

The boy keens, his hands press against Kiku’s shoulders and he lets out a whine. Kiku is startled by the cry. He pulls back and looks down at Alfred with wide eyes. He was so very afraid to have upset him, to have been the one to make him cry.

Their eyes meet and again Kiku is transported into the past. His young virgin bride looks up at him with uncertainty and fright. It was only natural for their first submission.

Kiku had sworn to never lay harm to her, just like Alfred. He would not hurt him. No, Kiku would grace them with comfort, with security, and pleasure.

Alfred’s hands were shaking, just like Sakura’s were that night. His eyes wide, uncertain, just like Sakura’s when she looked into the loving and assuring eyes of her newly wedded husband. And just like Sakura, Kiku took up Alfred’s hands in his own, holding them in his strong grasp, pressing them against the heart that beat for the one he had come to love. And just like his bride he kissed the one he loved deeply and passionate.

Carding fingers through that chopped hair Kiku didn’t mind its cut length anymore. The feeling of silk still tingled against the pads of his fingers, the golden strands fine and perfect. Alfred was warm underneath the Samurai warrior, his heat only rising the more Kiku pressed against him and molded into his body.

“Nnnghaah!” Alfred gasped, it was a moan. He reacted to Kiku rolling his hips into his own. Kiku could feel his thighs rubbing against his hips awkwardly and it made him shiver.

He lifted his hand, pressed it against the teen’s calf. His skin felt electric upon feeling the bare and soft skin of the one underneath him. He wanted more.

That hand, so trained to hold onto the hilt of a katana ‘til death, now sought to explore the long limb. It ascended upward, underneath the parting kimono. Up it touched and memorized until it pressed against the kneecap and rubbed.

Alfred trembled. His eyes even watered as he looked up at Kiku. But Kiku simply leaned down and kissed him, kissed his worries away and assured him silently that he would take care of him.

The hand traveled further. It touched warm thighs before rising, parting the already loose kimono. Alfred was bare underneath it. Nana no doubt telling him to dress lightly.

Perfection; Kiku could think of nothing else of the being laying underneath him. That flush darkening began to show its hue even against the white paint streaked up Alfred’s chest, neck and face. Kiku did not like the traditional paint, Alfred’s bronzed skin was beautiful on its own, needing no highlight but the flush underneath.

If there was one thing kept the same that paint nor covering could change it was those eyes, those blue, blue eyes. Kiku was in love with them. They darkened, a sapphire instead of the usual topaz.

They kept eye contact. When Kiku’s hands moved to touch Alfred’s bare chest the boy kept looking at him, his hands on his shoulders squeezing the more sensually Kiku rubbed his body against him. It was all very intimate with both their eyes open and upon the other, Kiku’s never known such intimacy since his wife, and, well, Alfred’s probably never known any at all.

It was all so very unexpected for both.

Alfred sucked a in a sharp breath with the calloused pads of Kiku’s weathered thumbs rubbed against his nipples. They were both painted red in contrast to the white painted over the rest of the expanse of the skin on his chest. They hardened to buds the more Kiku rubbed and soon, the red dots were too enticing.

It really did sound like a tear-filled cry when Kiku leaned down and attached his mouth to one of the buds. He could taste the paint. It wasn’t too pleasant on his tongue, but underneath it all he could still taste Alfred and it intoxicated him.

He moaned around the nipple while rubbing the other. He felt Alfred’s hands trade his shoulder for his neck and the back of his head. They were not pulling or pushing, simple gripping, clinging.

There was another cry and Kiku felt the boy’s chest press into him, his back arching in unison when Kiku applied some pressure from his teeth. When Alfred’s back hit the futon underneath the sound of his pants lulled the Samurai. Kiku opened his eyes and relaxed his jaw, letting go of the nipple now sucked clean of any offending paint.

Kiku’s mouth hovered over the bud for a while, saliva dripping down, leaving a string attached to it. The warmness of his breathy sighs hardened it more so. Then, Kiku looked up toward the boy’s face. What he saw froze him.

Alfred was crying. It wasn’t much, but Kiku could see the tears in his eyes, the subtle gleam of moisture near his nostrils, his lips parted only for the red painted rounds to awash with the boy’s leaking saliva.

He looked absolutely delectable.

Kiku felt a pang of possessiveness arise in him. Something akin to an animal’s growl escaped his throat as he scooted up the boy, taking hold of the kimono he had previously loosened and teased apart. Now his hands rent the fabric, pulled it from the boy’s arms, moved it away from him so nothing was covered. Nothing.

Kiku’s heart was racing, pumping energized blood through his body as he looked down at the American. Alfred was trembling again, he looked frightened, but he did not fight, he did not push away.

Kiku leaned down and kissed Alfred harder this time. His hand held the boy’s firmly and he kissed him deep, deeper than he’s kissed in a long time.

He had loved his wife. He had loved her very much, but even still he could not remember ever feeling something so strong and dangerous like how he felt for the American before. He wanted to bite Alfred. He wanted to grip him so hard it left marks on his unmarred skin.

Kiku wanted to make claim to him in every way possible. He wanted himself deep down Alfred’s throat, wanted the boy to choke on him. He wanted himself embedded so far inside him that the boy would always remember the feel of him.

Kiku wanted . . . he wanted to . . . to fuck Alfred so hard and so many times that he’d never be able to walk again, and all he’d be able to do afterwards was lay on his back and spread his legs for him.

Kiku wanted this. He wanted this for himself. Something for his own person.

But . . .

Did Alfred want this?

Kiku should have made sure. Should have asked. But he was so caught up in his own selfishness for once in his life that he neglected to understand the warm body underneath his.

He was kissing Alfred’s throat when he reached down and cupped the American. He could feel him moan through his throat while he suckled on a pounding vein. For a quick flash of a second Kiku wondered if Alfred’s ever touched himself. The thought of such a pure virgin body underneath him pressed all wandering thoughts aside and Kiku eagerly wrapped his fingers around the shaft of the American’s penis and rubbed.

Up and down were the motions of his hand until he felt Alfred’s hips join in the dance. The sighs leaving past red-paint lips were quickly turning deeper into long moans. The sight of Alfred tossing his head to and fro excited Kiku and he was quick to lean down and kiss the boy’s chest.

When his lips touched the sternum of Alfred’s breast Kiku swore he could feel the physical thumping of the boy’s heart beat against the ribcage. Kiku smiled at the feel, more so at the sound of Alfred’s whine when his hand paused in its work forcing the teenager to buck his hips against him for friction.

The Westerner was quite big for an adolescent. By the sound of his panting moans this was no doubt the first time his manhood has ever been touched. Hm, what a pure boy.

Alfred seemed to enjoy the feel of Kiku’s hand, his hips continuously bucking to get the older man’s hand to rub him up and down. But soon enough Kiku regained control of his hand and slid up, pressing his thumb to the head of the penis. He pushed it against the boy’s pelvis and held the organ there, simply rubbing the head, sometimes letting his thumbnail graze over the slit already beading out precum.

Alfred let out one of those whines that made Kiku shiver. He looked at Kiku, he looked frustrated and all at once confused—like he didn’t know what he wanted. He tried to buck his hips again and when he did Kiku released him altogether. He choked out a sigh, one of his hands coming to his mouth.

Blue eyes were on Kiku again and Kiku looked into them. They were filled with amazement, curiosity. In a way, this was like Alfred was coming of age, everything so new to him.

Kiku’s hand reached down. He rubbed the boy’s testicles in slow circular motions. He watched attentively. When Alfred’s lips parted and formed that of a round chime, Kiku choked over a moan bubbling up out of his throat. When the blonde’s eyes rolled and his eyelids fluttered shut, Kiku felt his entire being ignite in flames.

Slowly, sensually, Kiku’s fingers traced, grazed. He slowly tugged at the pubescent hairs littering the boy’s private regions until his fingers traveled down and gently pressed against a puckered ring of muscle.

Alfred gasped loudly. Kiku’s eyes looked up at him. He was frozen, still, his eyes looking up into the ceiling above.

Kiku took his eyes away and pressed his hands against the American’s thighs, parting them further apart in gentle time. He was cleaned thoroughly the day before. He was to be spotless before the Shogun.

The Shogun: Tokugawa Ieyoshi.

Kiku frowned. This beauty, Alfred, lain out bare, cleansed, scented, painted, legs spread—this was supposed to be the sight the master was to behold.

Kiku pressed his finger against Alfred’s virgin entrance, the tip of his finger slowly ebbing inside. The Westerner gasped, his eyes closing shut tightly. This was what the Shogun was supposed to experience; what he was supposed to see, to hear, to feel.

Kiku was a wretched servant. He was nothing but a thief. He should kill himself from the disgrace he was bringing upon himself.

But Kiku Honda did not care. He wanted Alfred, and for once in his life was going to act on his desires.

Further Kiku pressed his finger inside. Alfred didn’t arch as beautifully as he had before, in fact he twisted, almost painfully in form. His eyes scrunched and his teeth grit. He let out a cry of pain. And yet he continued to lay there, submitting himself to Kiku, keeping his trembling legs open.

Kiku remembered his mistake his first time with Sakura. He was too hasty, wanting to feel her, to join his body with hers and to surround himself in tight wet warmth. Their second time he had corrected himself, allowed her to lubricate properly for easier movement and penetration for the both of them.

So Kiku fought with his need and ache to embed himself into the boy in a haste. He pulled himself away from Alfred, his finger slipping out of the tightness. He heard Alfred choke out a sigh and roll over onto his side.

In Alfred’s upset over the discovery for his purpose he had tarnished his room. Clutter surrounded them and some of the belongings he had gained in his time spent there laid tossed and strewn about the floor. A container of fragranced oil lie off to the side and Kiku reached out and grabbed it.

He returned to Alfred, leaning down and kissing the corner of his mouth. Blue eyes flickered up at him. And then Kiku watched him lean his head back and felt him turn his face, turn his lips to his.

The pressure was small but Kiku felt it. Alfred had kissed him. The American had kissed him back.

Kiku felt his heart skip a beat, rolling in his chest before traveling up his throat and laying just behind his teeth. Kiku hadn’t meant to, but he had just been so excited, so thrilled to feel the boy press back to him that he grabbed the back of Alfred’s head and pushed him close, smashing lips together and clanking teeth.

Kiku bit those lips, sucking on them, making sure he was the reason they were plump. Alfred gasped, the moment his mouth opened with the loud intake of breath a moan slipped out after. The sound of it aroused Kiku and when he pressed his pelvis against Alfred’s thigh he groaned.

He knew Alfred could feel it. He knew he could feel how hard and stiff he was. Now the boy’s thigh trembled. When he moved he rubbed Kiku’s hardened shaft and the Asian groaned, his eyes fluttering closed at the feel.

If Alfred would just touch him back, if he would grind against him, move his hands, press his lips to his skin—oh, Kiku would be in eternal paradise.

“Alfred,” Kiku whispered and leaned down to suck his neck. He’d grown accustomed to the taste of the paint, his lips smeared with the white substance, but the taste of the boy’s own flesh was too enticing to stop. It wasn’t long before the white paint nearly faded from the boy’s body by Kiku’s spittle.

When Kiku leaned down to suck in the other red-painted nipple into his mouth he felt Alfred’s hands move, rising, reaching into his hair and pulling to grasp ebony strands. Kiku moaned around the bud in his mouth from the feel of Alfred’s strong hands pulling his locks, from the feel of his well-groomed fingernails scraping his scalp.

In that distraction Kiku rubbed his hands in the scented oil and let the left one wander down past his manhood toward his virginity. Kiku massaged the ring of muscle again, coating it before slipping his middle finger inside again. By Alfred’s reaction Kiku could tell it was a much easier penetration, the boy simply rolled his hips and now Kiku’s finger was inside up to the knuckle.

So, Kiku tried a second finger. Strangely enough Alfred hadn’t reacted so much to it. From that the Samurai began to move his fingers, thrusting them in and out slowly.

Fists clenched tighter into his hair and Kiku let go of the nipple ground against his teeth to look up at Alfred’s face. The red really was visible now even against the contrasting white makeup. Those blue eyes were shut, brows crashing together, and lips parted to release silent moans.

He looked heavenly.

Kiku could not resist leaning up, his fingers pressing in deeper with his ascent. Just as he hovered over the younger’s face red-powdered eyelids fluttered open to reveal shining blue irises. Alfred and Kiku’s eyes met, held the other’s gaze, before Alfred’s eyes flicked down toward Kiku’s parted panting lips. He looked like he wanted them, and so Kiku obliged.

Kiku leaned down and captured those wanting lips. He was quite pleased when Alfred tilted his head upward, pressing back into him and trying to return the kiss. Pressing his right hand against his cheek Kiku steadied the boy and lead him in the kiss, urging him to open his mouth, to let his tongue inside, and to slide his own against his.

Alfred choked out another moan from these ministrations and in that moment Kiku added another finger. The boy pulled back. He hissed through clenched teeth and closed his eyes tightly.

Kiku took hold of his jaw and turned his head back to him, squeezing his jaw to get the Westerner to look at him. Alfred did. He trembled under him in pain but met Kiku’s gaze.

Not a word was exchanged between the two. Kiku was telling everything through his eyes. He was telling Alfred to relax, that he would take care of him, and that he loved him.

When Kiku began to move his fingers, thrusting in and out, his other hand retreated from Alfred’s jaw to take hold of his hip, guiding him along in rolls and bucks. Kiku’s own hips pressed against Alfred’s, rolling and grinding with his. The boy seemed better now that he was closer to him, rubbing against him.

“Kiku,” Alfred gasped out, his head falling back onto the futon while the Samurai worked his fingers inside him. “Kiku.”

Kiku couldn’t imagine himself hardening more, but he had, he had to the point he was in near pain. The way Alfred said his name so breathlessly was godly. Spirits around was Kiku aroused.

Now, all the older wanted was to hear Alfred say his name over and over again.

Kiku bucked harder against him and in that moment he heard Alfred grunt out a squeak, watched the blonde’s hands fly to his mouth just in time for the boy to orgasm. White hot cum coated his belly and Kiku’s own clothing. Kiku froze. He had forgotten that Alfred had been so hard, so ready to teeter over the edge.

Looking down he noticed the boy’s cock still slightly hard even still. Looking up he looked into Alfred’s face. His eyes were clenched shut tightly and his being shook from the post shudders.

Kiku even witnessed him shy away when he opened his eyes again. Alfred took in one glance at Kiku before shifting his gaze away in embarrassment. Kiku smiled. There was nothing to be ashamed of.

When Kiku leaned down and kissed Alfred’s red-tinted cheek he pressed his fingers deeper. At this Alfred jumped and squeaked again. Kiku even felt his penis erect itself against his abdomen.

Oh, so that was the reason.

Kiku pressed again and this time Alfred’s eyes rolled and his lips parted to let out a string of moans that forced Kiku to lose all self-control. Kiku groaned and quickly pulled his fingers out. He leaned back on his knees and took up the oil, lathering his hands to warm the substance before untying his hakama and pulling himself free from his loincloth. He bit back a moan when he rubbed himself with the oil and almost ejaculated at the sight before him.

Alfred, bare, lain out before Kiku with his legs spread and entrance prepared for him was too enticing to not contain himself.

With trembling and needy hands Kiku placed the limbs near Alfred’s shoulders when he came to return over him. His own thighs parted, spreading Alfred out more for him. Kiku could feel himself sweating, just looking down at Alfred in anticipation.

Alfred looked up at him, grasped his shoulders and held his breath. When Kiku began to press inside the older watched Alfred bare his grinding teeth and close his eyes tightly. Alfred was a good boy for dealing with the penetrating pain.

But soon enough it all became too much. The American tossed his head to the side and let out a cry of pain. In that cry tears slipped down from underneath his eyelids and Kiku’s heart nearly stopped beating.

Kiku was only halfway in when the cry resounded throughout the room. He leant down, letting his elbows support him as his chest touched Alfred’s. His right hand, slick with oil and sweat reached up and ran the backs of his knuckles against Alfred’s forehead. He stopped in is descent into the boy for a moment, just watching and waiting for his tears and trembles to lighten.

When they did, when Alfred’s cries were reduced to sniffling hiccups, Kiku leaned down and kissed the boy’s temple. He cradled him with his arms and he pressed in deeper. He wanted to hurry his penetration so much, the tight warmth was just too much for him, but Kiku forced himself to remain calm because if he didn’t then Alfred would surely cry and he hated seeing him in tears.

Alfred went rigid again when Kiku pressed in deeper. All in all the Samurai had to pause in his sheathing three times before he was settled fully inside the virgin. Alfred was crying again once he had finished his descent into him and Kiku simply leaned down, kissing him with comforting assurance.

But Alfred would not turn his head. He remained faced away, eyes shut, bottom lip in his mouth, and nostrils sniffing in leaking moisture. Kiku would not move without Alfred’s approval though.

The older’s fingers reached up, lightly skimming across the fading makeup-ed face. The touch made Alfred open his eyes and when they turned to look at Kiku the man smiled. Alfred then cried again but this time he threw his arms out and lurched forward, wrapping his long arms around Kiku’s neck and his thighs tighter around his hips.

Alfred’s face pressed close to Kiku’s neck as he cried and clung to him. And Kiku held him in return.

Finally he pulled himself back and then pushed back inside. A closed-mouthed moan tickled Kiku’s ears and he longed to hear it again. So he pressed back inside, thrusting slowly to stretch better and let the boy grow accustomed to him.

The feeling coaxed Kiku’s eyes to close and a pleased sigh escaped his lips. The feeling of being inside Alfred was something else entirely. Kiku was surprised he had held himself back for so long. But, he was glad he had.

The thighs trembling against his hips but pressing closer to hold were his. Those arms wrapped around his neck that continued to constrict his breathing were his. Those lips parting to let out moaning pants, those were Kiku’s as well.

Kiku pushed Alfred back down onto the futon. The boy’s eyes were wide as he looked up at the man above him. Kiku didn’t give him the time to doubt his intentions as he leaned down and took the boy’s mouth into his again.

Eagerly Alfred’s eyes closed and he pressed back into Kiku’s mouth. The moans now rumbled past Kiku’s teeth and in that he knew he was doing everything right.

Kiku could feel those virgin walls relaxing around him, but when his cock traveled close to a certain spot the muscles would contract and squeeze around him deliciously. So, Kiku opted to angle his thrusts in the place they tightened the best.

“Ah!” Alfred had pulled back, slamming his back against the futon while his back arched and his hips bucked up into Kiku’s. Oh, what a pleasant sound and even better feeling.

Kiku thrust just like that again and Alfred reacted the same. Even better he felt him part his legs more, enticing him to come _closer_ , press _deeper_ , go _faster_. Kiku did all of these things he knew Alfred silently wanted.

“Aha!” Alfred’s head tossed to the side, his eyes closing shut just as Kiku leaned down and began suckling the skin on his neck, planting kisses in between.

Kiku wanted to bite down, wanted his teeth marking everywhere on Alfred’s skin but he refrained because of . . .

“Kiku!” Alfred gasped out. He bucked against Kiku again and this time, as Kiku’s hands came to his hips he guided the both of them in a grinding roll, enhancing both of their pleasure.

Kiku loved this. He was so close to Alfred, so connected. He loved Alfred.

He leaned down and kissed him again. Their lip connection was sloppy this time, both just rubbing lips while they sucked in sharp breaths and exhaled loud moaning pants.

Harder, Kiku was thrusting harder and quicker and Alfred keened, moaning and groaning and shaking. He nearly screamed at the top of his lungs when Kiku’s hand rose and wrapped around his cock. Kiku gave him a firm squeeze, feeling the organ throb and thicken. He held him off because he wanted him to ascend into the heavens together with him.

Alfred was practically whining now the more Kiku bucked into him, rubbing against him in the best way possible, making his body arch into him and his cock red with the need to orgasm. Kiku continued to squeeze him, to hold him at bay. He could feel a small amount of cum dripping down over his hand and Kiku envisioned the sight of Alfred coated in the substance; what a sinful delight.

Kiku grunted with each thrust inside, they came out like breaths as he pressed his forehead against Alfred’s neck. But when Alfred would roll his hips and meet his thrusts the feeling intensified because he sank deeper that way and the reaction was his eyes rolling and a low drawn out moan leaving his lips. Perhaps Alfred liked the sounds he made as well because the boy continued doing that after a short while.

Kiku was close, so close. He felt himself trembling, he could barely hold himself above Alfred his limbs were shaking that much. The swell of his cock made the boy feel tighter and Alfred groaned at the stretching feeling.

Reaching out he wrapped his arms around Alfred, pulling him flush against him. The two trembled together, Kiku’s hand never releasing Alfred’s manhood even when the color of it seemed concerning. When Kiku felt Alfred’s palms press against his shoulder blades he turned his head and looked at the boy, lidded blue eyes looked up at him and Kiku felt the allure pull him in.

The Samurai kissed the concubine and in that joining sealed their fates.

Kiku’s hand slipped from Alfred’s throbbing cock and the organ was quick to let loose its pent up frustration. The warm seed coated their chests, seeping through Kiku’s clothing and sticking to his skin. Kiku in the same time let go of himself and he erupted inside the Westerner.

Alfred’s head flew back beautifully, his mouth parted, his teeth sheened, and his breath left him. Kiku was mesmerized by the sight and rolled his hips in time with the waves of pleasure washing over him, pumping his own seed deep into the younger. Those walls felt as if they were sucking him deeper, churning to take his seed, to take all of him.

Kiku rolled his hips until he felt himself soften and even then the tingles from what had transpired remained over him, encasing him in euphoria. Alfred had since gone limp, his head lain to the side, his chest heaving, and legs still spread.

When Kiku pulled himself out he heard Alfred grunt. He had gotten a little stuck there, almost as if the boy was clenching himself, trying to keep him inside. The sight afterwards aroused the old warrior.

There was Alfred: lain out, sedated, legs still spread but moving a little as Kiku’s seed dripped out of his deflowered hole. Then Kiku noticed Alfred was looking at him. Their eyes met again and Kiku scooted closer. He reached out and touched the boy, pressed his palm to his cheek endearingly and felt his heart skip a beat when Alfred leaned into the touch, closing his eyes to rub against his hand.

The desire to take him again was still so strong. Kiku leaned down. He wanted to kiss the concubine again.

Wait . . .

Kiku froze. His lips a mere inch away from Alfred’s who had leant his head back and parted his lips in anticipation for Kiku’s descending ones.

The samurai blinked. He was awake now and now he saw what he had done.

Kiku pulled away. He retreated so quickly that Alfred’s eyes flew open and looked at him with wide confusion. When Kiku stood and pushed his cock back into the confines of his loincloth and then tied his obi around his hakama again he hadn’t the time to notice Alfred begin to shake.

Kiku’s face paled. He could not look at Alfred anymore. He tried to, but out of his shamefulness he turned himself from the boy and then did something he shouldn’t have. He left Alfred.

In his sudden panic he pushed all of the things barricading the door to Alfred’s room out of the way and opened it. He left the door opened and walked himself down the hall. The shrill cries of the dishonor he had wrought on his master were greater than the ones shouting at him from his heart. The heart that pounded hard against his breast and loud in his ears.

What had he done? Why had he done it?

Kiku knew what he had done. He knew why he had done it.

With each step resonating down the dark hallway that led to the rest of the concubines’ quarters it became harder to breathe. Kiku reasoned with himself that it was because he had shamed the Shogun, his sworn master, but deep in his heart he knew that it was because he was breaking for what he had done. For leaving Alfred like that.

Falling in love with the Shogun’s concubine was the lowest dishonor, and Kiku was drowning in it.

**Author's Note:**

> So, trying to keep this as Historical accurate as I possibly can but I still take the liberty in tweaking some things about it. It's going to flow like a oneshot, so that means fast-paced to an extent. I'm not an expert in Japanese culture but as for the time it is the Edo Period and the country is enjoying its isolation.
> 
> Historical References . . .
> 
> Sakoku was a term for Japan and other Asian country's isolation. This usually meant they only traded with a select few nations. But, around this time the Japanese were sending away traders left and right. Notably the Americans, French, British, and Russians.  
> Six years prior to the beginning of this story an American vessel, Morrison, was fired upon in Japan's bay after trying to subtly set up trade and send out Missionaries. This happenstance made the Japanese more secluded to Westerners and stricter laws were enforced. Many of these laws did include the death penalty.  
> Tokugawa Ieyoshi [1793-1853] is the current Shogun in the story. Not much information is said about him as compared to his father, so of course I'm taking a few liberties with his person.  
> Also, when concern was mentioned about Kiku's mourning time, it was referring to the traditional amount of days Japanese tended to mourn loss back in that time. About 49 days were expected of a family to mourn for their loved one to be exact, and often times longer. But, a Bushido's gotta do what a Bushido's gotta do, death in the family or not.


End file.
